LOVE-LETTERS 
OF   MARGARET   FULLER 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


INTRODUCTION 


MARGARET  FULLER'S  name  is  now  one  to 
conjure  with.  Few  remain  at  the  present  day 
of  those  who  felt  her  personal  attraction,  or 
heard  her  eloquent  discourse.  The  literary 
material  which  she  left  behind  her  appears 
small  in  dimension,  when  thought  of  in  com 
parison  with  the  scope  of  her  intellect  and  the 
height  of  her  aspiration.  Yet  her  name,  once 
the  subject  of  sarcasm,  is  now  spoken  with 
reverence,  and  her  figure,  carved  or  cast  in  en 
during  marble  or  bronze,  would  appropriately 
guard  the  entrance  of  the  enlarged  domain  of 
womanhood,  of  which  she  was  the  inspired 
Pythoness. 

Among  the  titles  bestowed  on  women  of  un 
usual  gifts,  that  of  Sibyl  appears  to  me  to  suit 
best  with  what  we  know  of  her.  Like  her  con- 


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temporary,  George  Sand,  she  felt  keenly  the 
wide  discrepancy  between  the  moral  and  intel 
lectual  power  of  women,  and  the  limits  assigned 
them  in  the  division  of  the  world's  work.  But 
Margaret's  Puritan  inheritance  had  bred  in  her 
a  religious  faith  in  which  she  far  excelled  the 
great  Frenchwoman,  a  faith  in  the  fulfilment 
of  all  the  glorious  promises  of  humanity.  As 
in  a  vision  she  walked,  rapt,  inspired,  little 
sensitive  to  praise  or  blame,  with  a  message  to 
deliver,  whose  full  import  she  could  not  know. 
The  decades  which  have  elapsed  since  her  un 
timely  death  have  made  this  import  clearer  to 
us.  The  new  order  has  asserted  and  established 
itself,  and,  though  time  has  swept  away  most 
of  those  who  held  converse  with  her  while  in 
the  flesh,  the  number  is  greatly  multiplied  of 
those  who  claim  fellowship  with  her  in  the 
spirit. 

A  leading  trait  in  this  leader  of  the  woman's 
cause  was  courage.  Margaret  dared  to  recog 
nise  her  own  mental  and  moral  power.  There 
was  nothing  in  her  make-up  to  suggest  the  old- 
time  phrase  "  only  a  woman."  She  certainly 
enjoyed  exceptional  advantages  of  early  train- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


vn 


ing    and    surrounding,    neither    of    her    parents, 
having  found  their  duty  in  the  act  of 

"  Preaching  down  a  daughter's  heart." 

The  way  in  which  she  embraced  these  oppor 
tunities  of  instruction  made  evident  a  spirit 
brave  from  the  start.  Foreign  tongues  might 
be  difficult;  they  were  not  too  difficult  for  her. 
The  ancient  classics,  not  then  included  in  the 
curriculum  of  a  girl's  education,  were  not  be 
yond  her  reach.  Coming  to  womanhood,  she 
was  generous  in  sharing  with  others  the  results 
of  her  thoughtful  study.  The  atmosphere  of 
this  fine  culture,  of  this  large  and  liberal  view 
of  life,  went  with  her  everywhere. 

Biography  has  done  for  her  what  it  could. 
A  very  full  account  of  her  life  was  given  many 
years  since  by  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  and  William  Henry  Channing. 
To  be  so  memorialized  argued  a  subject  nothing 
less  than  illustrious.  At  a  later  date,  Colonel 
Higginson  and  the  writer  of  these  lines  each 
gave  to  the  world  a  more  succinct  appreciation 
of  her  life  and  work. 

The    present    volume    contributes    an    unex- 


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Vlll 


Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


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pected  addition  to  what  is  known  of  her.  A 
series  of  letters  inspired  by  a  very  fervent 
friendship,  and  written  in  a  tone  of  unreserve 
unusual  with  her,  reveals  to  us  something  of 
the  ardour  and  depth  of  her  nature.  These 
letters  are  not  for  profane  eyes.  They  show 
the  immense  craving  for  sympathy  of  one  who 
was  herself  most  sympathetic.  She  who  had 
given  so  freely  of  her  own  inspiration,  who 
had  aided  so  many  of  her  own  generation  to 
aspire  nobly  and  to  live  truly,  sought  with  pas 
sionate  longing  one  who  should  be  to  her  what 
she  had  been  to  others.  For  a  time  she  evi 
dently  thought  that  she  had  found  this  spiri 
tual  counterpart  in  the  person  to  whom  these 
letters  were  addressed. 

They  were  written  at  an  intensely  subjec 
tive  period  of  Margaret's  life,  before  the  wider 
horizon  of  experience  had  fully  opened  before 
her.  The  neighbourhood  of  New  York,  even 
when  viewed  from  the  Greeley  residence,  may 
have  afforded  some  enlargement  to  one  hitherto 
imprisoned  in  the  narrowness  of  the  old  Boston 
and  its  surroundings.  But  Margaret  was  made 
for  wider  knowledge  and  more  varied  observa- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


IX 


tion,  and  these  came  to  her  soon  after  the  time 
now  under  consideration,  in  her  visit  to  Europe 
and  her  residence  in  Rome. 

Margaret  sailed  for  England  with  a  party 
of  congenial  friends  in  1846.  Her  reception 
in  that  country  seems  to  have  been  gratifying 
on  the  whole.  Abroad,  as  at  home,  she  was 
the  theme  of  some  harmless  satire,  enjoying  at 
the  same  time  deserved  recognition.  On  some 
occasion  she  was  said  to  have  remarked  that  she 
accepted  the  universe,  on  report  of  which  say 
ing  Carlyle  was  reported  to  have  said :  "  She 
accepts  the  universe,  does  she?  I  think  she  had 
better."  On  being  told  that  she  had  spoken 
of  women  as  possible  sea-captains,  he  was  said 
to  have  expressed  a  doubt  whether  "  she  could 
command  a  smack."  In  letters  to  Mr.  Emerson, 
nevertheless,  he  appears,  after  some  question, 
to  admit  her  claims  to  superior  consideration. 

The  enthusiastic  friendship  which  dictated 
the  letters  now  published  came  unexpectedly  to 
an  end,  and  was  never  renewed.  She  dismisses 
it  from  her  thoughts  in  one  or  two  significant 
sentences  of  her  Dfary. 

While  visiting  friends  in  Scotland,  Margaret 


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had  the  awful  experience  of  passing  a  night  on 
a  solitary  mountain-side.  She  had  become  sepa 
rated  from  her  guide,  who  sought  her  anxiously, 
but  in  vain.  She  related  this  adventure  after 
ward  to  the  Rev.  F.  H.  Hedge  in  a  way  which 
led  him  to  consider  it  as  the  occasion  of  a  pro 
found  spiritual  experience.  He  was  wont  to 
say,  in  speaking  of  it,  "  that  night  Margaret 
experienced  religion." 

A  season  of  European  travel  proved  full 
of  delighted  interest  to  Margaret,  whose  pil 
grimage  culminated  in  the  Eternal  City.  There 
she  encountered  the  husband  of  her  choice,  and 
became  doubly  wedded  to  that  Italy  which  had 
always  so  strongly  appealed  to  her  imagination. 
Of  the  romantic  interest  of  her  years  of  resi 
dence  in  the  Eternal  City,  Margaret  has  given 
us  glimpses  in  her  letters  and  Diary.  A  fuller 
account  of  that  momentous  period  of  1848  and 
thereafter  was  prepared  by  her  for  publication, 
but  has  never  seen  the  light.  She  should  have 
lived  to  tell  us,  in  her  own  impassioned  manner, 
of  the  brief,  brave  struggle  for  Italian  lib 
erty,  of  the  joy  of  the  brief  deliverance,  of  the 
bitter  disappointment  that  followed. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


XI 


She  was  present  when  the  new  French  Re 
public  aimed  its  murderous  blows  at  the  throat 
of  its  famous  sister.  To  us  dwelling  at  a  dis 
tance,  the  tragedy  seemed  bitter  enough.  What 
must  it  have  been  to  Margaret,  in  the  midst 
of  the  turmoil,  her  young  husband  a  soldier  of 
the  fight,  her  newly  born  son  separated  from  her 
by  the  army  which  besieged  Rome?  A  dear 
sister  of  mine,  herself  a  witness  of  those  evil 
days,  was  seated  one  day  with  her  own  infant 
child  in  her  arms,  when  Margaret  unexpect 
edly  entered  the  room  in  which  she  sat.  The 
visitor's  eyes  rested  for  a  moment  on  the  mother 
and  child  with  an  intensity  of  expression  which 
my  sister  well  understood,  when  some  months 
later  the  facts  of  Margaret's  marriage  and 
maternity  were  made  known.  The  sequel  and 
culminating  catastrophe  of  this  very  excep 
tional  life  have  long  been  familiar  to  the  public. 
A  memorial  raised  by  loving  friends  preserves 
Margaret's  name  and  record  on  the  shore  of 
the  fatal  shipwreck. 

The  volume  herewith  presented  to  the  pub 
lic  is  a  memorial,  not  of  Margaret's  fate,  but 
of  the  brilliant  forenoon  of  her  existence,  a 


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period  of  "  imagination  all  compact,"  in  which 
neither  difficulty  nor  disappointment  had  had 
power  to  darken  the  glowing  interpretation  of 
life  and  its  conditions,  which  was  her  best  gift 
to  the  men  and  women  of  her  time,  and  of  our 
own  as  well. 

JULIA  WARD  HOWE. 
BOSTON,  May  25,  1903. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

xiii 

CON 

TENTS 

CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION.     By  Julia  Ward  Howe 

PAGE 
V 

PREFATORY  NOTE.     By  James  Gotendorf, 

formerly   James  Nathan 

1 

THE  LETTERS     

7 

I     

9 

II     .        .        

10 

Ill     

12 

IV    

13 

V    

15 

VI    

15 

VII    

17 

VIII    

17 

IX    

18 

X    

22 

XI    

25 

XII  (with  two  poems)  

29 

XIII    

31 

xiv  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


CON 
TENTS 


XV      ........  35 

XVI   ........  39 

XVII  ........  41 

XVIII  ........  43 

XIX  ........  43 

XX  ........  50 

XXI  ........  55 

XXII  .       .       ...       .       .       .59 

XXIII  ........  64 

XXIV  .......       .65 

XXV  ........  67 

XXVI  (with  an  unpublished  poem)     .  69 

XXVII  ........  73 

XXVIII  ........  76 

XXIX  ........  80 

XXX  ........  81 

XXXI  ......       .       .  83 

XXXII  ........  85 

XXXIII  (with  two  unpublished  poems)  .  87 

XXXIV  ........  91 

XXXV  ........  93 

XXXVI  ...       .....  97 

XXXVII  .  98 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  xv 

LETTER  PAGE  CON- 

XXXVIII 104      TENTS 

XXXIX  .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .110 

XL 121 

XLI 127 

XLII  . 135 

XLIII 140 

XLIV 149 

XLV 158 

XLVI 164 

XLVII 168 

XLVIII 175 

XLIX 180 

L 184 

EDITORIAL  NOTES  : 

Passage  from  Margaret  Fuller's  Eng 
lish  Diary 187 

Letter  from  F.  Delf  to  Mr.  Na 
than  188 

Mr.  Nathan's  change  of  his  name  to 

Gotendorf 190 

Facsimile  of  Margaret  Fuller's  hand 
writing  191 


xvi  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

CON-  PAGE 

REMINISCENCES 193 

By  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson     .        .        .195 

By  Horace  Greeley 208 

By  Charles  T.  Congdon  .        .        .        .223 


Love -Letter  s  of  Margaret  Fuller 


PREFA 
TORY 
NOTE 


PREFATORY  NOTE 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


Written  in  the  summer  of  1873,  by  James  Goten-      PREFA' 
dorf,  formerly  James  Nathan  NOTE 

THIRTY  years  ago  the  family  of  my  late  and 
lamented  friend,  Horace  Greeley,  occupied  one 
of  those  old  and  spacious  mansions  on  the  banks 
of  the  East  River,  wherewith  former  generations 
had  skirted  both  sides  of  Manhattan  Island. 
From  its  large  balcony  in  the  rear  it  commanded 
a  full  and  noble  view  over  the  shores  of  Long 
Island  down  to  the  Bay  and  up  to  the  Sound. 

A  long  and  well  shaded  lane,  beginning 
at  what  was  at  that  time  called  the  old  Cato 
Road,  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
present  Fiftieth  Street,  led  up  to  the  good-sized 
and  cultivated  garden,  which  surrounded  the 
house,  and — studded  with  fine  old  fruit-  and 
shade-trees  —  extended  southerly  over  an  un 
broken  plot  of  ground  towards  a  piece  of  wood 
land.  A  sweet  rivulet  ran  its  bubbling  course, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


PREFA 
TORY 


NOTE 


meandering  through  knoll  and  dell  or  frolicking 
hither  and  thither,  while  an  equally  lovely  and 
winding  footpath  sometimes  accompanied,  some 
times  crossed  it  into  the  woods  or  led  easterly  to 
and  over  the  craggy  rocks,  that  overhung  and 
bounded  the  river — altogether,  a  still  and  chosen 
spot  for  walk  and  talk. 

It  was  here,  at  a  place  sometimes  called  "  the 
Farm,"  and  late  in  the  fall  of  the  year  1844, 
while  Margaret  Fuller  (Ossoli)  was  residing  in 
the  family  of  the  Greeley's  and  writing  the 
artistic  and  literary  criticisms  for  the  Tribune, 
that  I  first  met  her. 

Her  high  intellectuality,  purity  of  sentiment 
and  winning  conversation  soon  attracted  me  and 
my  visits  beyond  the  limits  of  leisure,  afforded 
by  the  duties  of  an  active  business  life,  and  the 
natural  suggestion,  that  fragments  of  time,  late 
evening-  or  early  morning-hours  might  be  em 
ployed  for  epistolary  communications,  soon  re 
sulted  on  her  part  in  the  following  letters,  the 
first  thirty -nine  of  which,  mostly  without  date, 
were  written  either  in  answer  to  mine  or  in  con 
nection  with  preceding  conversations.  The  re 
mainder  followed  me  upon  travels. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


For  many  years  after  the  tragical  end  of      PREFA- 
their  author,  I  would  not  part  with  this  mother- 

NOTE 

less  offspring  of  our  spiritual  intercourse  and 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  detached  leaves, 
submitted  for  a  similar  purpose  to  her  friend 
and  biographer,  Mr.  W.  H.  Channing,  at  his 
solicitation,  no  human  eye  has  ever  seen  them. 
But  now  when  more  than  a  generation  has  passed 
and  no  earthly  interest  or  feeling  can  possibly 
be  injured,  I  cannot  suffer  their  exquisite  natu 
ralness  and  sweetness  to  sink  into  the  grave. 
More  especially  do  I  not  feel  justified  in  with 
holding  them  from  others,  who,  having  deeply 
loved  her  in  life  and  mourned  her  death,  are  en 
titled  to  this  sacred  experience  of  her  inmost  soul, 
while  at  the  same  time  I  feel,  I  can  wreathe  no 
fresher  laurels  around  the  cherished  memory  of 
"  Margaret  "  than  by  showing,  through  these 
letters,  that  great  and  gifted  as  she  was  as  a 
writer,  she  was  no  less  so  in  the  soft  and  tender 
emotions  of  a  true  woman's  heart. 

Of  a  correspondence  like  this,  so  infinitely 
frank,  confiding  and  truthful,  it  is  but  proper, 
that  some  passages  and  letters  be  withheld,  but 
as  soul  and  sentiment  are  valued  by  quality, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


PREFA 
TORY 


enough  is  given  to  answer  every  purpose.      In 

the  long  lapse  of  time,  a  word  or  two  has  become 
NOTE 

illegible,  but  each  has  been  reproduced  as  cor 
rectly  as  it  could  be  deciphered.  For  the  reader 
unacquainted  with  her  sad  fate  I  may  say  in  con 
clusion  that  after  these  letters  were  written  she, 
in  London,  found  letters,  and  then  went  to  Rome 
and  to  Heaven,  but  the  mutually  much  longed 
for  meeting  is  yet  to  be,  somewhere !  somehow ! 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


THE 
LETTERS 


THE   LETTERS 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

9 

DEAR  MR.  NATHAN, 

LETTER 

My  mind  dwells  often  on  what  you  are  to  tell 

I 

me.    I  have  long  had  a  presentiment,  that  I  should 

meet  —  nearly  —  one  of  your  race,  who  would  show 

me  how  the  sun  of  to-day  shines  upon  the  an 

cient   Temple  —  but   I   did   not   expect   so   gen 

tle  and  civilized  an  apparition   and  with  blue 

eyes! 

It  was  one  of  those  little  incidents  that  have 

in   them  somewhat   fateful,   that,  last  Monday 

morning,   a   friend  with  whom   I   was   walking 

asked  me  to  go  in  and  see  the  Jerusalem,1  and 

I  at  first  said  yes,  and  then,  I  do  not  know  why, 

changed  my  mind.    But  in  the  evening,  you  asked 

me  and  told  me  of  yourself. 

Some  day,  when  you  are  not  bound  to  buying 

and  selling,  and  I  too  am  free,  and  when  the  sun 

shines  as  gloriously  as  it  has  some  days  of  late, 

and  the  birds  are  again  in  full  song,  you  will 

perhaps  take  me  from  Dr.  Leger's  in  the  morn 

ing,  and  show  me  some  one  of  those  beautiful 

1  A  plastic  representation  of  that  city,  then  on  exhibition. 

io  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  places  which  I  do  not  yet  know,  and,  while  I 
look,  I  will  listen  too,  and,  as  we  return,  you  will 
show  me  the  "  Holy  city."  On  my  side  I  have 
a  poem  I  wish  to  read  to  you ;  it  is  so  corre 
spondent  with  the  story  you  told  me.  Is  this  little 
plan  a  dream?  If  so,  it  will  only  fade  like  other 
buds  of  this  premature  spring.  To-morrow  will 
be  the  first  day  of  spring. 


LETTER  Friday  evening. 

ii 

I  cannot,  dear  Mr.  Nathan,  go  with  you  to 

the  concert,  because  before  receiving  your  note, 
I  had  engaged  to  accompany  another  friend. 
But  you  will  be  there;  and  we  shall,  I  hope, 
have-  beautiful  music  that  will  associate  us  in 
sympathy. 

Perhaps  you  will  be  at  the  Farm  on  Sunday. 
I  shall  go  out  after  dinner,  but  you  must  not  let 
this  intimation  break  up  your  Sunday,  if  you 
had  planned  any  distant  excursion.  I  know  the 
charms  of  an  unbroken  day ;  indeed  it  always 
seems  that  I  do  not  half  enjoy  any  scene 
till  I  have  had  its  presence  through  an  entire 
day. 


II 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  1 1 

I  am  glad  to  have  you  wish  to  retain  the  LETTER 
book,  but  should  sometime  like  to  correct  with 
my  pen  the  little  errors  in  the  printing,  of 
which  I  see  too  many,  but  hope  to  remove  them 
all  in  another  edition,  for  they  begin  to  talk 
of  that. 

It  pleases  me  that  you  feel  so  truly  what  is 
told  of  Panthea.  I  believe  there  is  nothing  writ 
that  is  more  to  my  mind.  Can  you  doubt  the  pos 
sibility  of  such  feelings?  Do  they  not  prove 
themselves  as  soon  as  seen  to  be  just  what  nature 
intended,  if  only  we  would  not  be  satisfied  with 
affection  less  fervent  and  less  pure? 

Au  revoir. 

P.  S.  The  reason  of  your  not  receiving  my 
note  earlier  was  that  I  did  not  send  it.  I  wrote 
and  carried  it  about,  thinking,  if  we  happened  to 
meet,  I  would  give  it,  but  thought  it  too  trifling 
to  send.  But  that  afternoon,  which  was  of  such 
blue  sky  and  inspiring  breezes,  gave  me  an  im 
pulse  to  send  it,  as  I  passed  through  the  city. 
A  note  will  scarcely  ever  fail  to  reach  me  in 
the  course  of  twenty-four  hours,  if  left  at  the 
office. 


12  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  February 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

For  the  memory  of  the  frank  words  of  yester 
day  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  address  you 
more  distantly — I  feared,  when  you  went  away, 
that  you  believed,  I,  too,  did  not  sympathize  with 
you,  or  I  could  not  have  said  I  was  so  happy, 
when  you  had  just  been  telling  me  of  your  deep 
wants.  You  seemed  repelled  by  this,  but,  indeed, 
it  was  not  because  I  did  not  feel.  It  is  difficult 
for  me  to  put  into  words,  what  was  in  my  mind, 
but  you  will  understand  it  when  you  know  me 
more.  Yet  let  me  say  to  you,  that  I  think  it  is 
great  sin  ever  to  dream  of  wishing  for  less 
thought,  less  feeling,  than  one  has.  Let  us  be 
steadfast  in  prizing  these  precious  gifts  under 
all  circumstances. 

The  violet  cannot  wish  to  be  again  impris 
oned  in  the  sod  because  she  may  be  trampled  on 
by  some  rude  foot.  Indeed  our  lives  are  sad,  but 
it  will  not  always  be  so.  Heaven  is  bound  to 
find  for  every  noble  and  natural  feeling  its  re 
sponse  and  its  home  at  last.  But  I  cannot  say 
much,  only  I  would  have  you  remember  yesterday 
with  pleasure  as  does  * 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


The  birds  this  morning  were  in  full  song,  like 
April.  Should  you  like  to  go  with  me  on  Monday 
evening  to  hear  the  Messiah?  If  so,  will  you 
come  to  tea  to  Mr.  Cranch's  at  six  or  a  little 
later  and  take  me?  You  may  be  engaged,  or 
you  may  not  love  Handel's  music ;  in  either  case, 
let  me  know  by  note  and  I  can  find  another  guard 
ian  without  difficulty.  They  will  send  a  note 
from  the  Tribune  office,  if  you  wish,  but  if  it 
be  your  desire  to  go,  that  is  not  necessary. 


LETTER 
III 


LETTER 


Friday  evening. 

IV 

I  feel  the  need  of  writing,  just  to  say  good 
evening.  Dear  friend,  good  night — a  good  day 
I  cannot  suppose  you  have  had.  But  there  was  a 
good  day  along  the  riverside ;  I  have  felt  so  con 
tented  since,  scarcely  one  little  wish  yet.  When 
there  has  been  time,  a  cloud  of  thoughts  have 
floated  over,  thoughts  suggested  by  the  inspira 
tions  of  your  mind ;  but  it  was  not  a  dark  cloud, 
but  one  silvery  white,  full  and  volumed,  such 
as  we  see  in  the  days  of  early  June  upon  a  bright 
blue  sky.  But  there  has  been  little  solitary  time. 
I  have  with  me  the  two  girls,  Georgiana  and 


14  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  Honora ; *  they  are  preparing  for  their  pilgrim 
age  in  a  happy  spirit.  I  brought  Honora  out 
with  me  to-day  and  had  a  full  talk  as  we  were 
walking.  The  love  and  trust  shown  by  many 
seem  to  have  given  a  new  development  to  her  men 
tal  history.  Her  eyes  are  full  of  a  good  young 
herzlich  look.  I  think  she  is  naturally  artful 
in  the  sense  of  having  a  great  deal  of  tact,  but 
that  it  may  all  be  turned  to  good.  They  leave 
me  to-morrow.  The  Springs  are  again  prevented 
from  going  to  Staten  Island,  and  will,  I  think, 
be  prevented  for  several  Sundays,  probably  till 
after  I  lose  you — this  is  a  relief  to  me.  Even 
when  I  do  not  see  you,  I  had  rather  not  go  out 
elsewhere,  especially  to  ride.  But  I  hope  I  shall 
see  you  next  Sunday.  We  will  worship  by  im 
promptu  symbols,  till  the  religion  is  framed  for 
all  Humanity.  The  beauty  grows  around  us 
daily,  the  trees  now  are  all  in  blossom  and  some 
of  the  vines ;  there  is  a  Crown  Imperial  j  ust  in 
perfection,  to  which  I  paid  my  evening  worship 
by  the  light  of  the  fire,  which  reached  to  us,  and 
there  are  flashes  of  lightning  too.  But  I  do  not 

1  Two  erring  young  girls  she  tried  to  reform. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


like  the  lightning  so  well  as  once,  having  been 
in  too  great  danger.  Yet  just  now  a  noble  flash 
falls  upon  my  paper,  it  ought  to  have  noble 
thoughts  to  illumine,  instead  of  these  little  noth 
ings,  but  indeed  to-night  I  write  only  to  say : 
thou  dear,  dear  friend,  and  we  must  meet  soon. 


Saturday  morning. 

I  sealed  my  letter  last  night  and  don't  know 
what  is  in  it,  but  it  seems  as  if  there  was  nothing. 
No  response  at  all,  and  yet  my  mind  has  been  en 
folded  in  your  thought,  as  a  branch  writh  a  flame. 
Now  the  branch,  perhaps  too  green,  looks  only 
black  upon  the  hearth,  yet  if  there  is  nothing, 
wait. 

Are  you  very  busy  ?  If  not,  walk  up  through 
John  Street  toward  the  Doctor's  about  twenty 
minutes  past  ten.  But  if  you  are  busy,  don't 
disturb  yourself.  I  go  that  way  at  any  rate. 

Evening,  Hth  March. 

It  is  for  me  to  regret  now  that  I  have 
troubled  a  gentle  heart  far  more  than  was  in- 


LETTER 
IV 


LETTER 
V 


LETTER 
VI 


i6 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
VI 


tended.  I  only  wished  to  be  satisfied,  and  when 
you  told  me  how  you  had  viewed  the  inci 
dent  I  really  was  so.  Do  not  think  of  it  ever 
again. 

It  would  be  more  generous  to  be  more  con 
fiding,  but  I  cannot.  You  must  see  me  as  I  am. 
Trifles  affect  me  to  joy  or  pain,  but  I  can  be  ab 
solutely  frank.  You  will  see  whether  you  find 
me  fastidious  and  exacting.  Our  education  and 
relations  are  so  different,  and  those  of  each  as 
yet  scarce  known  to  the  other — slight  misunder 
standings  may  arise.  Fate  does  not  seem  to 
favour  my  wish  to  hear  more  of  your  life  and 
the  position  of  your  mind.  But  I  do  not  feel, 
that,  whatever  I  may  know,  I  can  misunderstand 
what  is  deepest.  I  have  seen  the  inmost  heart, 
what  the  original  nature  is.  I  am  thus  far  con 
fiding. 

Tell  me,  if  it  is  not  wrong  for  me  to  ask, 
what  was  the  "  severe  loss?  "  What  has  power 
to  make  you  "  heart-sick  ?  " 

I  hear  my  host  and  his  sweet  little  wife  sing 
ing  together.  If  I  were  only  alone  with  them, 
I  should  have  urged  your  stay;  you  would  like 
them,  but  there  are  so  many  corner-pieces  besides 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  17 

in  the  parlour  with  living  eyes,  that  are  over-busy      LETTER 
in  taking  note,  I  do  not  invite  any  friend  to  face 
them.  Lebewohl. 

P.  S.  Do  not  fancy,  that  I  have  lost  this 
day  by  staying.  I  have  been  well  engaged  and 
it  has  been  still  and  sweet  alone  in  my  room  by 
the  bright  fire  with  the  rain  falling  so  musically 
outside.  One  feels  at  home  on  the  earth  such 
days.  I  am  sorry,  that  you  should  have  come  here 
in  the  wet  for  nought ;  but  hope,  your  day,  also, 
is  closing  pleasantly. 


VII 


Though  I  wish  to  see  you,  yet  come  not  on  a      LETTER 
cold,  cloudy  day.    Though  you  are  furthest  from 
what   is   commonly   meant  by   a   "  fair  weather 
friend,"  I  like  to  see  you  in  sunshine  best. 


Wednesday,  19th  March.          LETTER 

VIII 

I  dine  to-day  with  Mrs.  Child,  house  of  Isaac     V 
Hopper,  20  Third  Street.     If  you  will  come  for 
me  there  at  seven  or  half  past  seven,  I  will  go 
with  you.      'Tis   said,  the  third  attempt  never 


1 8  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  fails,  but,  if  it  should  in  this  instance,  we  will 
not  try  again,  but  accept  it  as  an  omen,  that  we 
are  not  to  see  Zion  together.  For,  though  I 
dine  in  town  one  other  day  this  week,  it  is  at  a 
place  where  I  cannot  easily  excuse  myself  for 
going  away  in  the  evening. 

I  have  no  time,  now,  for  more,  except  to  ex 
press  happiness  in  the  aspirations  of  my  friend. 
May  Heaven  cherish  them !  I  cannot  ask  this 
for  you  in  that  ancient  noble  speech  of  the  chosen 
people.  Yet  the  Prayer,  which  he  of  Nazareth 
gave,  is  true  for  the  heart  of  all  Nations. 

"  Lead  me  not  into  temptation  and  deliver 
me  from  evil."  The  stars  answer  to  that;  while 
they  reprove,  they  promise.  Ask  for  me  in  the 
words  of  your  own  poet,  his  original  words,  which 
I  cannot  repeat :  "  keep  back  thy  servant  also 
from  presumptuous  sins." 

If  you  receive  this  in  time,  let  me  know  at 
Dr.  Leger's  whether  you  will  come  this  evening. 


LETTER  Sunday  afternoon. 

IX 

The  true  lovely  time  is  come  at  last.     The 
leaves   and   grasses   are   out,   so   that   the   wind 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  19 

can  make  soft  music,  as  it  sweeps  along,  in-  LETTER 
stead  of  the  rattling  and  sobbing  of  winter. 
A  dear  little  shower  is  refreshing  the  trees 
and  they  grow  greener  and  fairer  every  mo 
ment  in  gratitude.  (I  write  so  badly,  because 
the  wind  shakes  my  paper  too  as  well  as 
the  other  leaves,  but  I  can't  bear  to  shut  the 
window. ) 

You  must  use  your  moderation  about  our  in 
terviews,  and  as  you  know  best.  I  like  best  to 
rely  entirely  upon  you,  yet  keep  time  as  much  as 
possible  with  the  enchanting  calls  of  outward  na 
ture.  It  is  nothing  to  be  together  in  the  parlour, 
or  in  the  street,  and  we  are  not  enough  so  among 
the  green  things.  To-day  the  lilacs  are  all  in 
blossom,  and  the  air  is  full  of  a  perfume  which 
causes  ecstasy. 

I  hear  you  with  awe  assert  power  over  me 
and  feel  it  to  be  true.  It  causes  awe,  but  not 
dread,  such  as  I  felt  sometime  since  at  the  ap 
proach  of  this  mysterious  power,  for  I  feel  deep 
confidence  in  my  friend  and  know  that  he  will 
lead  me  on  in  a  spirit  of  holy  love  and  that  all 
I  may  learn  of  nature  and  the  soul  will  be  legiti 
mate.  The  destiny  of  each  human  being  is  no 


20 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
IX 


doubt  great  and  peculiar,  however  obscure  its 
rudiments  to  our  present  sight,  but  there  are  also 
in  every  age  a  few  in  whose  lot  the  meaning  of 
that  age  is  concentrated.  I  feel  that  I  am  one 
of  those  persons  in  my  age  and  sex.  I  feel 
chosen  among  women.  I  have  deep  mystic  feel 
ings  in  myself  and  intimations  from  elsewhere. 
I  could  not,  if  I  would,  put  into  words  these 
spirit  facts,  indeed  they  are  but  swelling  germs 
as  yet,  and  all  I  do  for  them  is  to  try  to  do 
nothing  that  might  blight  them.  Yet  as  you  say 
you  need  forget  your  call,  so  have  I  need  of 
escaping  from  this  overpowering  sense.  But 
when  forced  back  upon  myself,  as  now,  though 
the  first  turnings  of  the  key  were  painful,  yet  the 
inner  door  makes  rapturous  music  too  upon  its 
golden  hinge.  What  it  hides,  you  perhaps  know, 
as  you  read  me  so  deeply;  indeed,  some  things 
you  say  seem  as  if  you  did.  Yet  do  not,  unless 
you  must.  You  look  at  things  so  without  their 
veils,  yet  that  seems  noble  and  antique  to  me. 
I  do  it  when  you  hold  me  by  the  hand,  yet,  when 
I  feel  how  you  are  thinking,  I  sometimes  only  say : 
Psyche  was  but  a  mortal  woman,  yet  as  the  bride 
of  Love,  she  became  a  daughter  of  the  gods  too. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  21 


But  had  she  learned  in  any  other  way  this  secret      LETTER 
of  herself,  all  had  been  lost,  the  plant  and  flower 
and  fruit. 

But  it  is  impossible  to  say  these  things,  at 
least  for  me.  They  are  myself,  but  not  clearly 
defined  to  myself.  With  you,  all  seems  to  assume 
such  palpable  reality,  though  you  do  not  forget 
its  inner  sense  either.  I  love  to  hear  you  read 
off  the  secret,  and  yet  you  sometimes  make  me 
tremble  too.  I  confide  in  you,  as  this  bird,  now 
warbling  without,  confides  in  me.  You  will  un 
derstand  my  song,  but  you  will  not  translate  it 
into  language  too  human.  I  wish,  I  long  to  be 
human,  but  divinely  human.  Let  the  soul  invest 
every  act  of  its  abode  with  somewhat  of  its  own 
lightness  and  subtlety.  Are  you  my  guardian 
to  domesticate  me  in  the  body,  and  attach  it  more 
firmly  to  the  earth  ?  Long  it  seemed,  that  it  was 
only  my  destiny,  to  say  a  few  words  to  my  youth's 
companions  and  then  depart.  I  hung  lightly  as 
an  air-plant.  Am  I  to  be  rooted  on  earth,  ah! 
choose  for  me  a  good  soil  and  a  sunny  place, 
that  I  may  be  a  green  shelter  to  the  weary  and 
bear  fruit  enough  to  pay  for  staying. 

Au  revoir!    Adieu! 


22 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
X 


Tuesday. 

Yesterday  was,  perhaps,  a  sadder  day  than  I 
had  in  all  my  life.  It  did  not  seem  to  me  an  act 
of  "  Providence,"  but  of  some  ill  demon,  that  had 
exposed  me  to  what  was  to  every  worthy  and 
womanly  feeling  so  humiliating.  Neither  could 
I  reconcile  myself  to  your  having  such  thoughts, 
and  just  when  you  had  induced  me  to  trust  you 
so  absolutely.  I  know  you  could  not  help  it,  but 
why  had  fate  drawn  me  so  near  you !  As  I 
walked  the  streets,  "  the  piercing  drops  of  grief 
would  start  into  mine  eyes  "  as  the  hymn-book 
promises  they  shall  not  in  heaven,  and  it  pained 
me  to  see  the  human  beings.  I  felt  removed 
from  them  all,  since  all  was  not  right  between 
me  and  one  I  had  chosen,  and  knew  not  where  to 
turn  my  thoughts,  for  nature  was  stripped  of  her 
charms,  and  God  had  not  taken  care  of  me  as  a 
father.  But,  in  the  evening,  while  present  at 
the  "  Antigone,"  my  heart  was  lightened  by  the 
presence  of  this  darling  sister,  even  in  such  dis 
guise.  The  straightforward  nobleness  of  the 
maiden  led  her  to  Death ;  we — in  modern  times — 
have  not  such  great  occasions  offered  us,  we  can 
only  act  out  our  feelings  truly  in  the  lesser  ones, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


and  die,  if  needs  be,  by  inches ;  but  it  is  the  only 
way,  for  one  grain  of  distrust  or  fear  is  poison 
to  a  good  nature,  felt  at  once  through  every  vein. 
I  hoped  to  wake  this  morning  blessing  all  man 
kind,  but  it  was  not  so;  I  woke  with  my  head 
aching,  and  my  heart  cold  and  still,  just  as  on 
the  day  before.  But  a  little  while  after  on  my 
way  through  the  town,  there  came  to  me  the 
breath  I  needed.  I  felt  submiss  to  heaven,  which 
permits  such  jars  in  the  sweetest  strains  of  earth. 
I  saw  a  gleam  of  hope  that  the  earth  stain 
might  be  washed  quite  away.  I  thought  of  you 
with  deep  affection,  with  that  sense  of  affinity, 
of  which  you  speak  to  me,  and  felt  as  I  said 
this  morning,  that  it  was  suicide  to  do  otherwise. 
I  felt  the  force  of  kindred  draw  me,  and  that 
things  could  not  be  other  than  they  were  and  are. 
Since  they  could  be  so,  leave  them!  I  cannot 
do  other  than  love  and  most  deeply  trust  you,  and 
will  drink  the  bitter  part  of  the  cup  with  patience. 

Since  then,  I  have  your  note.  Not  one  mo 
ment  have  I  sinned  against  you ;  to  "  disdain  " 
you  would  be  to  disdain  myself. 

Yet  forgive,  if  I  say  one  part  of  your  note 
and  some  particulars  of  your  past  conduct  seem 


LETTER 
X 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
X 


not  severely  true.  Your  own  mind,  strictly 
scanned,  will  let  you  know  whether  this  is  so. 
You  have  said  there  is  in  yourself  both  a  lower 
and  a  higher  than  I  was  aware  of.  Since  you 
said  this,  I  suppose  I  have  seen  that  lower !  It 
is — is  it  not?  the  man  of  the  world,  as  you  said 
you  see  "  the  dame  "  in  me.  Yet  shall  we  not 
both  rise  above  it?  I  feel  as  if  I  could  now, 
and  in  that  faith,  say  to  you,  dear  friend — kill 
me  with  truth,  if  it  be  needed,  but  never  give  me 
less.  I  will  never  wish  to  draw  any  hidden  thing 
from  your  breast,  unless  you  begin  it,  as  you 
did  the  other  day,  but  if  you  cannot  tell  me  all 
the  truth,  always,  at  least,  tell  me  absolute  truth. 
The  child,  even  when  its  nurse  has  herself 
given  it  a  blow,  comes  to  throw  itself  into  her 
arms  for  consolation,  for  it  only  the  more  feels 
the  nearness  of  the  relation.  And  so,  I  come  to 
thee.  Wilt  thou  not  come  with  me  before  God 
and  promise  me  severe  truth,  and  patient  tender 
ness,  that  will  never,  if  it  can  be  avoided,  mis 
interpret  the  impulses  of  my  soul.  1  am  willing 
you  should  see  them  just  as  they  are,  but  I  am 
not  willing  for  the  reaction  from  the  angelic 
view  to  that  of  the  man  of  the  world.  Yet  the 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


time  is  past  when  I  could  protect  myself  by 
reserve.  I  must  now  seem  just  as  I  feel,  and  you 
must  protect  me.  Are  you  equal  to  this?  Will 
an  unfailing  reverent  love  shelter  the  "  sister  of 
your  soul?  "  If  so,  we  may  yet  be  happy  to 
gether  some  few  hours,  and  our  parting  be  sad 
but  not  bitter.  I  feel  to-day  as  if  we  might 
bury  this  ugly  dwarf -changeling  of  the  past,  and 
hide  its  grave  with  flowers.  I  feel  as  if  the  joy 
ous  sweetness  I  did  feel  in  the  sense  of  your  life 
might  revive  again.  It  lies  with  you — but  if 
you  take  up  the  lute,  oh  do  it  with  religious  care. 
On  it  have  been  played  hymns  to  the  gods,  and 
songs  of  love  for  men,  and  strains  of  heroic 
courage,  too,  but  never  one  verse  that  could 
grieve  a  living  heart,  and  should  it  not  itself  be 
treated  delicately? 

With  sorrow,  but  with  hope,  farewell. 


LETTER 
X 


LETTER 


Thursday. 

XI 

Yesterday  I  was  able  to  be  industrious,  and 
to  go  to  rest  singing,  if  not  with  that  sense  of 
deep  peace  with  which  we  would  lie  down  in  the 
bosom  of  night,  saying  as  our  sufficient  prayer: 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XI 


"  All  is  well."  But  to-day  your  letter,  with  its 
tone  of  sweet,  pure  reproach  comes  to  touch  the 
hidden  springs  of  feeling.  Art  thou  indeed  yet 
better,  lovelier,  truer,  than  thou  seemest  to  me? 
If  so  do  not  expect  me  to  blame  myself  for  the 
clouds.  I  shall  be  too  happy  to  find  a  being 
rise  beyond  my  expectations,  one  whom  I  must 
improve  and  expand  to  "  understand."  I  shall 
have  no  time  to  blame  myself. 

Yet  forgive,  if  I  have  done  amiss;  forgive, 
when  I  shall  do  amiss. 

And  I  too  "  do  not  understand !  "  From 
so  many  beautiful  dwellings,  whose  door  stood 
hospitably  open,  myself  must  turn  away  into  the 
shivering,  muddy  street,  because  they  would  not 
let  me  in  in  my  true  dress  and  manner.  And  now 
am  I  to  repel  thee?  Oh  no!  it  will  not  be  so; 
I  shall  understand  yet ;  have  patience.  And  yet, 

0  dearest  friend,  indolent,  cowardly  that  I  am, 

1  do  wish,  that  I  had  not  begun  to  read  the  book, 
but  only  learned  the  title-page  by  heart  and  left 
a  happy  kiss  upon  the  cover.     How   sweet   it 
would  have  been  just  to  walk  on  with  thee  through 
the  winding  ways,  without  hope,  without  doubt 
or  fear,  gathering  the  flowers  of  the  new  day 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  iy 

or  mosses  from  the  old  rocks  for  one  another,  LETTER 
with  sometimes  a  mutual  upward  look  to  sun  or 
star !  I  needed  no  future,  only  that  there  should 
be  no  precaution  or  limitation  as  to  the  future, 
nothing  to  check  that  infinite  hope,  which  is  the 
only  atmosphere  for  spring.  Those  winding 
ways  would  have  led  us  to  the  beach,  and  there 
we  should  have  parted,  and  I  would  have  watched 
the  white  sail,  with  unwearied  eye  and  saluta 
tion,  till  it  was  a  dark  speck  in  the  blue,  and 
then  I  would  have  wept  away  a  portion  more  of 
this  earthly  life  and  wept  myself  to  sleep,  when 
absence  and  duty  would  have  taken  me  again, 
and  placed  me  on  the  spot  where  I  ought  to 
awake,  and  all  would  have  been  past,  except  a 
fair  picture  on  the  wall  of  my  dwelling. 

Now  it  is  deeper,  and  we  cannot  get  out  of 
the  labyrinth,  nor  my  heart  find  what  it  craves, 
sweet  content  with  thee.  God  grant  that  a  pure, 
high  ministry  may  compensate  for  this  loss, 
which  to  me  is  unspeakable.  I  do  so  long  for 
childish  rest  and  play,  instead  of  all  the  depths, 
which  never  will  go  deep  enough.  Can  it  not 
be  again?  You  promised  the  lighter  chords 
should  yet  again  vibrate. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XI 


You  speak  of  the  "  cataract."  When  I  get 
down  here,  I  do  always  hear  its  plunge  and  almost 
see  its  white  foam.  But  I  know  little  about  the 
mystery  of  life,  and  far  less  in  myself  than  in 
others.  I  inclose  you  two  little  poems  addressed 
to  me,  which  seem  to  point  at  what  you  have  in 
mind,  do  they  not?  Yet  the  echo  from  them  is 
not  homef elt.  Your  voice  awakens  a  longer  echo 
through  the  subterranean  chambers,  yet  not  long 
enough  to  teach  me  where  to  go.  The  one  signed 
S.  was  given  me  last  autumn,  the  other  by  my 
brother-in-law,  W.  E.  Channing,  and  I  like  that 
particularly,  as  it  is  always  pleasing,  when  the 
common  intercourse  of  daily  life  does  not  de 
stroy,  but  enhances,  poetic  interest. 

And  you  I  must  cause  to  "  stoop  " ;  that  is 
uncongenial,  indeed,  nor  could  we  have  expected 
it.  But  truth — truth — we  have  resolved  always 
to  accept.  I  await  the  letter,  finding  myself 
always 

Your  friend. 

Late  evening. 

I  hear  to-night  of  a  generous  action,  which 
gives  me  so  much  pleasure,  I  wish  to  say  to  you, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  29 

that  I  am  happy.     Will  you  remind  me  to  tell      LETTER 
you  about  it,  when  we  meet? 

FROM  S.  TO  MARGARET.     1844.  LETTER 

XII 

Each  sat  alone,  girt  round  with  plastered  walls 

Of  little  rooms,  how  different  from  halls 

Which  we  should  build,  possessed  we  the  de 
light 

To  bring  the  treasures  of  our  thoughts  to 
sight. 

But  our  thoughts  were  not  these;  they  soared 
away, 

I  know  not  whither  thine,  but  if  I  may — 

Mine  will  I  tell  thee. 

Thou  art  the  Wind,  the  Wanderer  of  the  Air, 
The  Searcher  of  the  Earth,  and  everywhere 
Art  unappalled;  the  dizziest  heights  are  thine, 
Thy  force  is  felt  across  the  foaming  brine ! 
Unbaffled  thou  dost  dash  aside  the  wave; 
Thou  art  not  awe-struck  by  the  loneliest  cave 
When  hollow  sides  reverberate  thy  voice. 
With  eager  swiftness  wilt  thou  now  rejoice, 
To  emulate  the  cataract's  uproar  loud, 
Then  dancest  on  into  the  city's  crowd, 


30  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      Who  stand  astonished  at  thy  wayward  play, 
And  seek  a  shelter,  where  they  sought  the  day. 
But  when  at  length  thou  sink'st  to  gentleness 
Thou  art  an  angel's  whisper  sent  to  bless, 
And  while  thou  art  caressing  the  fair  child, 
He  smiles  to  meet  thy  touch  so  soft  and  mild. 
By  thee  the  flames  are  fanned  unto  their  height. 
The  air  is  purified  by  thy  swift  flight, 
Thou  mournest  round  the  grave  unvisited, 
To  hollow  ruins  all  thy  sighs  are  paid ; 
The  lonely  harp  that  hangs  upon  the  wall, 
Attuned  by  thee  shall  not  neglected  fall, 
But  who  shall  e'er  attune  thy  symphony? 
Thou  art  a  voice,  but  not  a  melody 
Where  is  thy  home? 

The  writer  of  this  is  a  person  all  intellect 
and  passion,  no  loveliness  of  character;  impetu 
ous,  without  tender  sympathy ;  hard  and  secret, 
when  not  strongly  moved,  yet  keenly  sensitive  to 
a  wound  from  others,  noble  in  the  absence  of 
little  faults,  ignoble  in  want  of  confiding  sweet 
ness.  Such  a  picture  do  I  draw ;  the  sub j  ect 
would,  probably,  no  more  accept  it  as  a  genuine 
portrait,  than  I  do  this  of  me. 


Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


FROM  W.  E.  C.  TO  MARGARET. 

XII 

I  mark  beneath  thy  life  the  virtue  shine 
That  deep  within  the  star's  eye  opes  its  day ; 
I  clutch  those  gorgeous  thoughts  thou  throw'st 

away 

From  the  profound  unfathomable  mine, 
And  with  them  this  mean  common  hour  do  twine, 
As  glassy  waters  o'er  the  dry  beach  play. 
And  I  were  rich  as  night,  them  to  combine 
With  my  poor  store,  and  warm  me  with  thy  ray. 
From  the  fixed  answer  of  those  dateless  eyes 
I  catch  bold  hints  of  spirit's  mystery 
As  to  what's  past,  and  hungry  prophecies 
Of  deeds  to-day  and  things  which  are  to  be : 
Of  lofty  life  that  with  the  eagle  flies, 
And  lowly  love,  that  clasps  humanity. 


Saturday  evening,  March  31st.          LETTER 

XIII 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

I  feel  a  strong  desire  to  write  you  a  few  words 
at  the  close  of  this  sweet  day.  And  yet,  there  are 
no  words,  many  or  few,  in  which  I  can  even  begin 
to  utter,  what  there  is  to  say.  It  is  indeed  true, 


3  2  Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  that  the  time  is  all  too  short.  To  feel,  that  there 
is  to  be  so  quick  a  bound  to  intercourse,  makes 
us  prize  the  moment,  but  then  also  makes  it  so 
difficult  to  use  it.  Yet  this  one  thing  I  wish  to 
say,  where  so  many  must  be  left  unsaid.  You 
tell  me,  that  I  may,  probably,  never  know  you 
wholly.  Indeed  the  obstacles  of  time  and  space 
may  prevent  my  understanding  the  workings  of 
character;  many  pages  of  my  new  book  may  be 
shut  against  me.  But  to  know  the  natural  music 
of  the  being,  what  it  is,  will  be,  or  may  be,  needs 
not  long  acquaintance  and  this  perhaps  is  known 
to  me,  better  than  to  yourself.  Perhaps?  I 
believe  in  Ahnungen  beyond  anything. 

Has  this  sweetest  day  been  spent  by  you  in 
busy  life  or  doubtful  thoughts?  For  that  I 
grieve ;  it  is  so  much  more  lovely,  than  yesterday  ; 
the  mood  in  nature  far  tenderer  and  more  ex 
pansive.  I  must  again  write  you  of  the  birds ; 
it  is  in  early  morning  that  they  are  in  such  a 
rapture ;  their  songs  at  other  hours  are  cold  and 
tame  in  comparison.  I  perceive  they  have  learned 
and  lived,  since  I  first  wrote  of  them.  Then  their 
notes  were  timid ;  they  were  not  sure  but  they 
must  perish  with  cold  before  they  could  enjoy 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


33 


LETTER 
XIII 


the  sunshine  of  this  beautiful  world,  but  now 
they  have  had  some  of  it,  and  are  content.  Will 
you  smile  at  such  a  trifle  being  written  down? 
After  all,  what  better  can  we  tell  one  another 
than  those  little  things?  Each  is  a  note  in  the 
great  music  book,  which  historians  and  critics 
never  opened,  but  which  contains  all  that  is  worth 
our  singing.  Oh!  there  are  glimpses  in  this 
world  of  a  truly  happy  intercourse,  simple  as 
between  little  children,  rich,  various,  intelligent 
as  among  perfected  men.  Sometime — some 
where. — Meantime  benedicite. 


Wednesday,  <2d  April.          LETTER 

XIV 

I  must  not,  dear  friend,  try  to  answer  your 
letter ;  it  moves  me  too  much.  May  good  angels 
guide  you  !  It  was  painful  to  see  your  letter  cur 
tailed  of  a  part,  yet  I  appreciate  the  cause,  that 
takes  it  from  me.  So  would  I  have  it.  Let  all 
that  is  given  to  me  be  with  the  full  consent  of 
your  mind ;  then  shall  I  be  at  home  in  its  perma 
nent  temper. 

Though  the  veil  of  mystery  must  be  sad  for 
one,  who  would  like  to  come  close  in  reliance,  yet 


34 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XIV 


such  is  my  belief  in  your  honour,  and  shall  I  not 
say  your  tender  regard  for  me,  that  I  shall  not, 
voluntarily,  seek  to  penetrate  it,  even  by  a  mental 
question.  Yet  certainly  it  will  be  happier  for 
me,  if  you  do  not  leave  me  thus  in  the  dark,  when 
you  go  for  so  long  and  so  far  a  travel.  The  only 
part  that  can  trouble  me  is  to  see  you  reproach 
yourself  in  some  degree.  Yet  can  I  never  look 
on  you  and  believe,  that  conscience  is  seriously 
gekrarikt  and  you  told  me,  that  you  had  "  only 
broken  through  the  conventions  of  this  world." 
That  I  know  a  generous  and  ardent  nature 
may  do,  without  deep  injury;  yet  much  out 
ward  difficulty  may  ensue.  But,  again,  only 
with  your  full  consent  would  I  hear  ever  a  word 
more.  You  will  act  as  the  heart  prompts  in 
communion  with  me,  and  as  to  the  circumstances 
of  our  outward  intercourse,  as  there  are  influ 
ences  unknown  to  me,  you  will  consult  them  as 
you  have  consulted  them,  and  my  trust  will  be 
in  you. 

Again,  may  our  good  angels  guide  you  and 
foster  daily  the  best  and  loveliest  self ! 

P.  S.  I  shall  expect  you  to-morrow,  but  I 
wish  it  were  to-day.  Twenty-four  hours  are  a 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  35 

great  many,  more  than  enough  to  bring  clouds,      LETTER 
yet  they  will  not  come  on  the  heaven  of  the  mind, 
not  this  time. 

Waverley  Place,  LETTER 

Sunday  afternoon,  6th  April,  1845. 

Can  my  friend  have  a  doubt  as  to  the  nature 
of  my  answer?  Could  the  heart  of  woman  re 
fuse  its  sympathy  to  this  earnestness  in  behalf 
of  an  injured  woman?  Could  a  human  heart 
refuse  its  faith  to  such  sincerity,  even  if  it  had 
accompanied  the  avowal  of  error? 

Heaven  be  praised  that  it  does  not!  Some 
of  your  expressions,  especially  the  use  of  the 
word  "  atonement  "  had  troubled  me.  I  knew 
not  what  to  think.  Now  I  know  all  and  surely 
all  is  well. 

The  first  day  we  passed  together,  as  you 
told  me  of  your  first  being  here,  when  you  came 
to  the  telling  the  landlord  so  ingenuously,  that 
you  had  no  money,  and  said  "  the  tears  ran  down 
my  boyish  cheeks  "  my  heart  sprang  toward  you 
and  across  the  interval  of  years  and  I  stood  be 
side  you  and  wiped  away  those  tears  and  told 
you  they  were  pearls  consecrated  to  Truth.  You 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XV 


said  you  "  would  not  do  so  now  "  but  I  believe 
you  would  act  now  with  the  same  truthfulness, 
though  in  a  different  manner  as  becomes  the  man, 
according  to  the  degree,  in  which  circumstances 
should  call  on  you.  And  so  it  is — There  are  no 
tears  nor  cause  to  shed  any ;  I  need  not  approach 
so  tenderly  as  I  might  have  to  the  boy,  but  if  it 
be  of  avail  to  bless  you,  to  express  a  fervent 
hope  that  your  great  and  tender  soul  may  har 
monize  all  your  nature  more  and  more,  and  create 
to  itself  a  life,  in  which  it  may  expand  all  its 
powers,  this  hope,  this  blessing  take  from  the 
one  in  whom  you  have  confided,  and  never  again 
fear  that  such  an  experiment  may  fail. 

Indeed  I  have  suffered  much  since  receiving 
the  letter.  I  came  into  town  yesterday  with  that 
winged  feeling,  that  often  comes  with  the  early 
sunshine.  When  the  letter  came,  I  could  not  wait, 
and  though  there  was  only  time  for  a  glance 
upon  it,  a  cold  faintness  came  upon  me.  I  took 
off  the  flowers  I  had  put  on,  expressive  of  my 
feelings  a  little  hour  before,  and  gave  them  to 
the  blind  girl,  for  I  almost  envied  her  for  being 
in  her  shut  up  state  less  subject  to  the  sudden 
shocks  of  feeling.  For  there  I  read  at  once  the 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


exact  confirmation  of  what  had  been  told  me  of 
your  position,  and  could  not  read  the  whole,  to 
be  soothed  by  its  sense  and  spirit.  For  this  day 
had  been  given  to  others,  and  the  evening  to  a 
circle  of  new  acquaintance.  Not  till  I  went  to 
my  room  for  the  night  was  there  any  peace  or 
stillness  and  all  things  swam  before  me,  so  I  felt 
the  falsity  of  the  position  in  which  you  had  placed 
yourself,  that  you  had  acted  a  fiction,  and 
though  from  honourable,  nay,  from  heroic,  mo 
tives,  had  endured  the  part  of  a  rogue.  I  felt, 
too,  that  you  had  probably  been  tempted  by 
the  romance  of  the  position  and  with  a  firmer, 
clearer  determination  to  acknowledge  with  sim 
plicity,  might  have  found  some  other  way.  .  .  . 

I  had  placed  the  letter  next  my  heart  and  all 
day  it  seemed  to  comfort  me  and  assure  me,  that 
when  I  would  be  once  alone,  peace  would  come: 
and  it  has  come.  .  .  . 

As  to  our  relations,  I  wish  these  circumstances 
to  make  no  difference  in  them  in  private  nor  as  to 
being  together  in  public.  Now  that  I  know  all, 
and  have  made  up  my  own  mind,  I  have  no  fear 
nor  care.  I  am  myself  exposed  to  misconstruc 
tion  constantly  from  what  I  write.  Blame  can- 


38  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  not  hurt  me,  for  I  have  not  done  wrong,  and  have 
too  much  real  weight  of  character  to  be  sunk, 
unless  by  real  stones  of  offence  being  attached  to 
me.  As  I  feel  for  myself,  so  do  I  for  a  friend. 
You  are  noble.  I  have  elected  to  abide  by 
you.  We  will  act,  as  if  these  clouds  were  not 
in  the  sky. 

My  feeling  with  you  was  so  delightful.  It 
was  a  feeling  of  childhood.  I  was  pervaded  by 
the  ardour,  upborne  by  the  strength  of  your  na 
ture,  gently  drawn  near  to  the  realities  of  life. 
I  should  have  been  happy  to  be  thus  led  by  the 
hand  through  green  and  sunny  paths,  or  like 
a  child  to  creep  close  to  the  side  of  my  companion, 
listening  long  to  his  stories  of  things,  unfamiliar 
to  my  thoughts.  Now  this  deeper  strain  has  been 
awakened;  it  proves  indeed  an  unison,  but  will 
the  strings  ever  vibrate  to  the  lighter  airs 
again  ? 

And  now  farewell.  Come  to  see  me  so  soon 
as  you  will  and  may.  Farewell  and  love  ever  your 
friend. 

P.  S.  I  stay  here  to-day  but  go  back  to  the 
Farm  to-morrow  morning.  As  to  your  letter,  I 
cannot  yet  part  with  it;  at  present  it  is  safe  as 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

39 

myself  and  before  you  go,  shall  be  disposed  of, 

LETTER 

as  you  desire.     I  feel  as  if  I  had  not  expressed 

XV 

enough  my  deep  interest  in  what  you  have  done, 

but  it  was  because  of  beginning  with  a  sense  that 

you  must  know  that  —  and  the  wish  to  satisfy 

you  as  to  myself.    You  will  read,  I  believe,  what 

was  left  unwrit. 

Tuesday  evening,  8th  April. 

LETTER 

XVI 

The  Cedar  Street  merchant  did  well.     Say, 

was  that  street  selected  from  any  association  with 

Lebanon?     How  far  the  name  wanders  from  the 

thing  in  this  world  ! 

Josey  1  commends  himself  to  you  with  a  mild 

but  fond  regret,  if  I  read  aright  the  glance  of 

his  eye,  when  I  told  him  of  your  inquiries.     He 

seems  very  content,  but  I  marvel  at  him  for  it, 

for  he  is  kept  close  a  great  deal.     Sarah  says  she 

gives  him  a  bath  every  day,  but  he  does  not  look 

as  he  did  with  you.    When  you  come  out,  perhaps 

you  will  give  Henry  some  directions  ;  he  appears 

to  have  more  respect  for  the  toilet  than  any  mem- 

1  A  handsome  Newfoundland  puppy. 

Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XVI 


her  of  this  family  except  myself,  and  I  should 
be  sorry  to  have  your  pet  get  a  dilapidated  air ! 
He  rejoices  when  he  sees  me  and  cries  after  me 
when  I  go,  but  I  fear,  there  is  no  especial  devo 
tion  in  that,  but  that  he  is  a  general  lover,  and 
more  affectionate  than  deep  in  his  feelings. 
The  only  fine  day  since  you  were  here,  I  took  him 
out  with  me,  and  for  a  while  we  were  very  happy 
together,  but,  when  I  fell  a-dreaming,  he  disap 
peared  and  I  had  a  sad  time  looking  for  him.  I 
was  so  distressed,  lest  he  should  be  lost,  and  by 
me.  At  last,  I  found  the  sun  was  burning  me  so, 
I  went  back  for  my  bonnet,  which  I  had  forgot 
ten,  and  beside  it  I  found  poor  Josey  looking  as 
if  he  felt  as  disturbed  about  me,  as  I  had  about 
him.  When  he  has  a  collar,  I  shall  not  feel 
anxious  in  having  him  with  me. 

This  has  been  a  sad  day — so  cruel  cold;  it 
hurts  me.  This  morning  all  the  flowers  lay  with 
their  poor  heads  on  the  ground  and  ice  clinging 
round  them,  the  blue-eyed  flowers,  that  looked 
up  so  trusting  to  the  blue  sky ;  the  golden  flowers 
that  looked  up  so  full  of  joy  and  sure  of  the  sun. 
May  to-morrow  be  more  genial !  With  love,  Gute 
Nacht. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  41 

P.  S.  It  is,  indeed,  such  a  worthless  little  LETTER 
note,  but  I  am  sad.  Two  such  dissipated  days, 
and  here  at  night  comes  a  thick  book,  named 
"  American  Facts  "  and  forbidding  me  to  look 
at  that  best  fact,  the  Moon.  Help  me,  my 
friend !  be  the  Oasis  with  its  fountain  and  its 
palm.  I  go  to  seek  you  in  the  land  of  dreams ! 


Evening  of  9th  April.          LETTER 

XVII 

I  take  the  little  sheet  to  answer  the  long  and 
beautiful  letter,  not  because  there  is  not  much  to 
say,  but  because  it  does  not  seem  that  I  can  say 
it  yet. 

The  sweet  ray  touches  my  life  and  I  wish  it 
might  bring  out  full  and  splendid  blossoms,  like 
the  pink  cactuses  seen  in  the  windows  of  the  rich 
these  bright  spring  days.  But  my  thoughts  lie, 
rather,  deep  in  the  ground  like  lily  roots;  not 
till  the  full  summer-time  will  they  show  themselves 
in  their  whiteness  and  their  fragrance,  but  then, 
where  they  stand  lovely  in  the  confidential  night, 
they  will  return  a  blessing  for  all  that  has  been 
given. 

I  am  with  you  as  never  with  any  other  one, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER  I  like  to  be  quite  still  and  have  you  the  actor  and 
the  voice.  You  have  life  enough  for  both  ;  you 
will  indulge  me  in  this  dear  repose. 

Sweetly  you  answer  to  my  thoughts  and  even 
in  the  same  images  in  which  myself  had  clothed 
them.  I  will  trust  you  deeply.  I  will  not  recall 
my  thoughts  from  an  involuntary  flight.  But 
can  there  fail  to  be  timidity?  Of  the  many  who 
have  stretched  out  their  arms,  there  was  not  one 
who  did  not  sometimes  scare  back  the  little  birds 
to  their  nest.  Often  when  they  pecked  at  the 
window  to  which  they  had  been  invited,  the  in 
mate  was  asleep,  or  hearing,  said  :  "  It  is  nothing 
but  the  wind."  And  on  one  pure  altar  they 
would  always  alight,  save  that  sometimes  the  fire 
burned  there  too  fiercely,  and  at  others  it  was 
desolate  with  ashes.  Long  has  it  seemed  they 
might  not  be  permitted  to  soar  and  sing,  until  a 
better  world  should  offer  freer  and  surer  invita 
tion.  Yet  the  lark  may  never  refuse  her  song, 
if  the  true  sun  should  dawn. 

I  hear  the  fire  bells  ;  perhaps  the  happiness  of 
hearths  is  being  marred  at  this  moment.  Heaven 
bless  all  thy  children  and  save  them  from  inex- 


XVII 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  43 

pressible  ills.      I   am   full   of  pity   to-night.      I      LETTER 
know  not  why  especially. 

Farewell,  dear  friend,  take  the  little  incoher 
ent  letter  in  good  part;  if  you  are  like  me,  you 
wish  for  one  every  day.  But  I  wish  still  more 
to  see  you  now  and  borrow  courage  from  your 
eyes.  I  like  to  see  the  old-fashioned  Deutscher 
Name  written  by  your  hand  and  should  like  to 
hear  it  from  your  lips,  but  would  rather  myself 
not  sign,  but  come  unannounced,  and  depart  in 
formally  as  if  at  home. 

Wednesday  evening.          LETTER 
DEAR  FRIEND,  xvm 

To  my  great  joy  Mrs.  Greeley  appears  to  be 
satisfied,  and — I  trust — all  will  go  sweetly  to  the 
end. 

Thus  I  take  the  sheet  with  the  little  hearts 
ease  to  repeat  once  more  what  resounds  so  con 
stantly  in  my  heart:  God  bless  you! 

Monday,  15th  April.          LETTER 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  XIX 

What  passed  yesterday,  seemed  not  less  sad 
to-day.  The  last  three  days  have  effected  as 


44  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  violent  a  change  as  the  famous  three  days  of 
Paris,  and  the  sweet  little  garden,  with  which 
my  mind  had  surrounded  your  image,  lies  all 
desecrated  and  trampled  by  the  hoofs  of  the 
demon  who  conducted  this  revolution,  pelting 
with  his  cruel  hailstones  me,  poor  child,  just  as 
I  had  laid  aside  the  protections  of  reserve,  and 
laid  open  my  soul  in  a  heavenly  trust.  I  must 
weep  to  think  of  it,  and  why,  O  God,  must  eyes, 
that  never  looked  falsehood,  be  doomed  to  shed 
such  tears!  It  seems  unjust,  as  other  things  in 
my  life  have  seemed,  though  none  so  much  as 
this. 

Yet  in  that  garden  must  be  amaranth  flow 
ers  "  not  born  to  die."  One  of  these  should 
be  a  perfect  understanding  between  us,  and  as 
"  spirit  identity  "  on  which  you  relied,  did  not 
produce  this,  we  will  try  words.  For  I  perceived 
yesterday  in  you  a  way  of  looking  at  these 
things,  different  from  mine — more  common  sense 
and  prudent,  but  perhaps  less  refined,  and  you 
may  not,  even  yet,  see  my  past  as  truly  as  I  do 
myself,  now. 

I  have  felt  a  strong  attraction  to  you,  al 
most  ever  since  we  first  met,  the  attraction  of  a 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  45 

wandering  spirit  towards  a  breast,  broad  enough  LETTER 
and  strong  enough  for  a  rest,  when  it  wants  to 
furl  the  wings.  You  have  also  been  to  me  as 
sunshine  and  green  woods.  I  have  wanted  you 
more  and  more,  and  became  uneasy  when  too 
long  away.  My  thoughts  were  interested  in  all 
you  told  me,  so  different  from  what  I  knew  my 
self.  The  native  poetry  of  your  soul,  its  bold 
ness,  simplicity  and  fervor  charmed  mine,  of 
kindred  frame. 

But  this  is  all  that  can  be  said  of  my  feel 
ings  up  to  receiving  your  confidential  letter  a 
week  ago.  I  enjoyed  like  a  child  the  charm 
with  which  a  growing  personal  interest  clothes 
common  life,  and  the  little  tokens  of  outward 
nature.  You  enjoyed  this  with  me,  and  the  vi 
brations  were  sweet.  I  received,  indeed,  with 
surprise,  the  intelligence,  that  you  would  go 
away.  It  startled  me  for  the  moment  with  a 
sense,  that  you  did  not  prize  me  enough.  I  had 
felt  that  I  could  be  so  much  to  you  to  refine, 
expand  and  exalt.  Could  it  be,  I  thought,  you 
did  not  feel  this?  But  then  your  words  assured 
me  that  you  did  feel  it,  and  I  easily  forgot  pride 
and  self-love.  I  was  thinking  more  of  you  than 


46  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      of  myself,  and  I  hoped  the  travel  was,  indeed, 
just  what  you  wanted. 

But  when  I  received  from  you  the  mark  of 
truth  so  noble,  and  that  placed  your  character 
in  so  striking  a  light,  also  seeming  to  attach  so 
religious  an  importance  to  my  view  of  it,  my 
heart  flew  open,  as  if  with  a  spring,  and  any 
hidden  treasure  might  have  been  taken  from  it, 
if  you  would.  I  can  never  resist  this  kind  of 
greatness.  I  may  say,  it  is  too  congenial.  At 
such  times  I  must  kneel  and  implore  our  God  to 
bless  with  abundant  love  the  true  heart  that 
consoles  me  for  the  littleness  I  must  see  in  my 
race  elsewhere. 

Afterward  I  thought  of  you  with  that  fool 
ish  tenderness  women  must  have  towards  men 
that  really  confide  in  them.  It  makes  us  feel  like 
mothers,  and  we  wish  to  guard  you  from  harm 
and  to  bless  you  with  an  intensity,  which,  no 
doubt,  would  be  very  tiresome  to  you,  if  we  had 
force  to  express  it.  It  seemed  to  me  that  when 
we  should  meet,  I  should  express  to  you  all 
these  beautiful  feelings,  and  that  you  would 
give  me  a  treasure  more  from  your  rich  heart. 
You  know  how  we  did  meet.  You  seemed  dis- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  47 

satisfied.  I  had  an  undefined  anxiety  to  do  LETTER 
something,  and  I  spoke  of  being  as  a  bark  that 
fears  to  leave  the  shore.  This  was  partly  in 
reply  to  what  you  had  said  so  beautifully  in 
your  letter,  of  never  recalling  my  thoughts, 
when  they  naturally  rested  on  you,  and  of  trust 
ing  to  nature  and  providence.  I  wanted  to  do 
so,  but  felt  afraid,  lest  pain  should  ensue,  such 
as  has  already  ensued  and  which  my  heart,  born 
for  the  most  genial  confidence,  knows  not  well 
how  to  bear  from  a  cherished  hand. 

Truly  the  worldly  and  manlike  way  in  which 
you  spoke  of  circumstances  so  delicate  and  which 
had  moved  me  so  much,  was  sad  for  me  to  hear, 
yet  was  I  glad  to  know  what  could  pass  in  the 
mind  even  of  the  dear  one  who  had  claimed, 
and  merited  so  large  a  trust.  My  guardian 
angel  must  take  better  care  of  me  another  time 
and  make  me  still  more  timid,  for  truly  nothing 
but  perfect  love  will  give  a  man  patience  to 
understand  a  woman,  even  such  a  man  as  you, 
who  have  so  much  of  feminine  sweetness  and 
sensibility. 

After  receiving  your  little  note  of  Saturday, 
I  again  looked  to  you  to  make  my  feelings  per- 


48  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  fectly  tuneful,  when  I  saw  you.  I  do  not  think 
any  human  being  ever  felt  a  lovelier  confidence 
in  the  pure  tenderness  of  another  than  I  did, 
when  we  left  the  church.  When  you  said  what 
you  thought  necessary  to  say,  it  struck  upon 
my  heart  like  a  blow.  Something  in  your  man 
ner  seemed  to  mark  it  for  me  and  yet  I  could  not 
believe  it,  yet  the  weight  pressed,  and  I  could 
not  rest  till  our  final  conversation  made  all  clear. 

Oh !  was  that  like  angels,  like  twin  spirits 
bound  in  heavenly  unison,  to  think  that  any 
thing  could  enslave  my  heart,  short  of  perfect 
love,  such  as  I  myself  am  born  to  feel,  and  shall 
yet,  in  some  age  and  some  world  feel  for  one 
that  can  feel  it  for  me? 

My  friend !  believe  what  I  say,  for  I  am  self- 
conscious  now.  You  have  touched  my  heart  and 
it  thrilled  at  the  centre,  but  that  is  all.  My 
heart  is  a  large  kingdom. 

But  your  heart,  your  precious  heart  (I  am 
determined  to  be  absolutely  frank),  that  I  did 
long  for.  I  saw  how  precious  it  is,  how  much 
more  precious  may  be.  And  you  have  cruelly 
hung  it  up  quite  out  of  my  reach,  and  declare: 
I  never  shall  have  it.  Oh  das  ist  hart!  For  no 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  49 

price !  There  is  something  I  am  not  to  have  at  LETTER 
any  price.  Das  ist  hart.  You  must  not  give  it 
away  in  my  sight  at  any  rate,  but  you  may  give 
away  all  your  prudence  and  calculations,  and 
arrangements,  which  seem  so  unlike  your  fairer 
self,  to  whomsoever  you  like. 

It  seemed  the  work  of  an  evil  angel,  making 
you  misread  a  word  in  my  letter,  but  since  it 
could  lead  you  to  think  it  needful  so  to  act,  I  am 
glad  you  did,  since  I  thus  became  apprized  of 
these  things  in  your  mind; — else  my  little  birds 
might  have  flown  to  you  in  too  thick  flocks.  You 
said  "  What  shall  our  relation  be  now  ?  " — I  say  : 
Most  friendly;  for  we  are  really  dear  to  one 
another;  only  it  is  like  other  earthly  relations. 
Poison  plants  will  sometimes  grow  up  in  the 
night.  But  we  will  weed  them  out,  so  soon  as 
possible,  and  bear  with  them,  since  only  perfect 
love  casteth  out  fear.  Think  of  me  with  love 
and  honor.  I  deserve  them.  So  do  you,  and 
shall  ever  have  them  from  me.  To  the  inspirer 
of  all  just  thoughts  and  holy  hopes  commending 
you,  farewell,  my  friend. 

For  the  sake  of  everything  dear,  don't  mis 
read  any  words  in  this  letter.  I  must  tell  you 


50  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  why  I  was  so  slow  to  understand  you  yesterday. 
It  was  because  you  made  use  of  the  word 
"  hope."  Has  any  circumstance  led  to  a  "  hope 
&c."  Ah,  Gretchen!  has  thy  really  proud  and 
sacred  life  only  led  to  such  an  episode,  where 
thou  art  supposed,  and  by  a  most  trusted  friend, 
to  be  "  hoping  "  about  such  things  ?  Where  is 
the  fault  in  thee  that  can  lead  to  conclusions  so 
humiliating?  My  own  mind  does  not  appreciate 
it.  Yet  again  I  am  glad,  my  friend,  to  read  the 
very  word  that  could  come  into  your  mind. 

Truth  is  the  first  of  jewels,  yet  let  him 
feel,  that  if  Margaret  dared  express  herself 
more  frankly  than  another,  it  is  because  she  has 
been  in  her  way  a  queen  and  received  her  guests 
as  also  of  royal  blood.  What  her  vanity  was 
you  may  see,  if  you  read  how  ingenuously  it  was 
said :  "  Tell  me  and  I  will  love  you  "  as  if  prom 
ising  a  boon. — Alas !  alas !  she  must  go  to  heaven 
and  the  journey  is  long. 


LETTER  Saturday,  19th  April,  1845. 

XX 

MY  BELOVED  FRIEND, 

Your  hand  removes  at  last  the  veil  from  my 
eyes.     It  is  then,  indeed,  myself  who  have  caused 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  51 

all  ill.  It  is  I,  who  by  flattering  myself  and  let-  LETTER 
ting  others  flatter  me  that  I  must  ever  act  nobly 
and  nobler  than  others,  have  forgot  that  pure 
humility  which  is  our  only  safeguard.  I  have 
let  self-love,  pride  and  distrust  creep  upon  me 
and  mingle  with  my  life-blood.  All  unawares 
I  have  let  experience  corrode  the  virgin-gold. 
I  came  from  the  battle  field  fancying  myself  a 
victor,  and  now  in  my  arrogance  have  fallen  be 
neath  the  just  hopes  of  a  kindred  spirit,  and 
grieved  it  and  put  this  same  darkness  into  its 
clear  life. 

I  need  not  say  "  pardon."  "  Long  since  " 
hast  thou  pardoned.  (Nay!  thou  wilt  bless  our 
Father  for  making  thee  the  instrument  of  good 
to  me,  in  that  only  religion,  which  restores  our 
innocence  to  us  by  making  us  weep  for  its  beauty 
and  implore  a  restoration  through  the  divine 
original. 

I  will  now  kneel,  and,  laying  thy  dear  hand 
upon  my  heart,  implore,  that  if  pride  or  sus 
picion  should  hide  there  again,  the  recollection 
of  this  day  may  rise  up,  and  with  its  sharp  deep 
pulse,  make  them  flutter  their  wings.  And  when 
I  know  they  are  there,  indeed,  indeed,  there  is 


52  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  nothing  I  will  not  suffer  myself  to  endure  to 
drive  them  out. 

I  have  indeed  always  had  a  suspicion  that 
I  was  not  really  good  at  all,  and  have  longed 
for  a  baptism  without  to  wash  off  the  dust  of 
the  world;  within,  a  deep  rising  of  the  waters 
to  purify  them  by  motion.  And  yet,  while  I 
wished,  I  feared  it.  Pain  is  very  keen  with  me. 
I  cannot  help  fearing  it.  Yet,  O  Father,  against 
whose  love  as  against  the  trust  of  man  I  have 
sinned,  in  this  same  moment  I  submit  and  say: 
when  and  how  much  Thou  wilt.  Thou  wilt  pro 
portion  it  to  my  strength  to  bear. 

My  beloved  friend,  I  will  not  say:  Forget 
these  days.  We  cannot  and  we  need  not,  but  I 
think,  receding  in  the  distance,  the  rough  crags 
with  their  serpent  brood,  will  not  misbecome  the 
landscape.  You  will  not  feel,  that  I  am  inca 
pable  of  faith  because  I  have  not  yet  shown  it, 
nor  misdoubt  the  light,  which  shone  on  you 
through  me,  because  it  does  not  yet  pervade  me. 
Fain  would  I  never  again  give  you  pain  or  dis 
appointment,  but  you  are  noble  enough  to  be 
willing  to  take  me  as  I  am.  A  higher  will  must 
govern  and  make  my  faults  perhaps  subservient 


Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  53 

to  its   purpose.     Your  trust  in  human  nature      LETTER 
will  not  be   shaken;  you  have  the  vouchers  in 
your  own  breast. 

If  I  ever  fancied  you  other  than  "  severely 
true,"  I  do  not  now.  I  have  now  taken  of  the 
kernel  of  your  life  and  planted  it  in  mine.  We 
have  now  been  embraced  in  the  eternal  good 
ness  and  truth,  and  a  certainty,  a  reality  has 
superseded  hope  and,  I  trust,  fear;  at  all 
events,  that  which  has  been  a  certainty  must 
ever  be. 

You  complain  of  being  bodily  sick,  but  I 
think  you  must  be  better  now.  Do  not  regret 
the  "  nightmare "  or  distrust  the  words,  poor 
blind  messengers  though  they  be  from  the  true 
home;  this  time  they  found  their  way,  and  shed 
the  light  on  all  that  came  before.  We  shall  now, 
I  think,  be  "  God's  good  children,"  and  I  shall 
be  like  a  child  otherways  than  in  fancies  and  im 
pulses  and  childish  longings. 

I  too  have  been  sick,  and  though  seeming 
cheerful  these  last  three  days,  it  was  outward 
and  wilful,  the  spirit  nestled  not  softly,  saying : 
All  is  well.  I  was  uberspannt;  the  feeling  of 
alienation  was  dreadfully  unnatural  to  me. 


54  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  Indeed  I  was  alienated  from  myself.     How 

could  it  be  borne?  But  coming  home  to-day 
with  your  letter,  I  could  not  forbear  falling 
asleep,  though  it  was  broad  daylight.  There 
was  such  repose  in  these  convictions,  it  gave  me 
the  power  of  sleep  at  once,  which  has  not  really 
been  before  since  Sunday.  I  rested  on  the  heart 
which  is  so  good  and  noble,  and  which  must 
surely  find  repose  for  itself,  also,  now  its  pain 
ful  task  is  done.  Yet  to-night  it  shall  be  the 
last  thought  with  me  to  wish  it,  though  by  me 
it  cannot  be  given.  I  have  not  been  good  and 
pure  and  sweet  enough.  I  have  no  words  where 
with  to  say  farewell  my  brother — Seligkeit. 

Evening. 

The  afternoon  has  been  of  such  tender  sweet 
ness,  the  little  frequent  showers  so  musical,  and 
drawing  from  the  earth  and  every  leaf  and  bud 
fragrance  till  the  air  seemed  full  of  soul.  The 
clouds  were  very  thin,  with  a  faint  glow  on  the 
horizon.  The  great  tree  is  far  more  glorious 
to-day.  I  have  worshipped  it  much,  and  very 
soon  it  will  be  all  starred  over  with  blossoms. 
The  world  may  be  wicked,  but  it  is  impossible 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  55 

on  such  a  day  not  to  rejoice  that  we  have  been 

hnvn    intn   it 


born  into  it. 


LETTER 
XX 


Tuesday  evening,  %%d  April.          LETTER 

XXI 

Your  aid,  dear  friend,  is  all  you  ought  to 
give  and  more  than  I  would  receive,  knowing 
that  the  claims  on  one,  placed  as  you  have  been 
and  with  your  heart,  must  be  numberless  and 
boundless,  did  I  not  take  especial  pleasure  in 
receiving  it  from  you  in  this  matter. 

I  have  written  to  Boston  for  the  rest,  as  there 
are  a  circle  of  young  and  rich  persons,  whose 
purses  were  always  open  to  my  call,  and  who  are 
desirous  I  should  appeal  to  them  in  the  same  way 
from  this  distant  sphere,  when  I  think  best.  But 
I  shall  do  it  sparingly  and  only  hope  that  the 
same  affinities  will  draw  to  me  here  similar  spon 
sors  for  my  good  desires.  For  at  home  I  did  not 
suffer  that  worst  evil  of  narrow  circumstances, 
inability  to  do  any  good  in  extreme  cases,  others 
being  willing  to  do  what  was  pointed  out  by  me. 
I  wish  you  would  remind  me  to  give  you  some 
particulars  about  this,  as  there  is  a  sweet  picture 
of  generous  sympathies  which  you  would  enjoy. 
There  are  innumerable  pleasures  worthy  your 


XXI 


56  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  acceptance  and  which  I  often  wish  to  give  you, 
of  knowing  the  good  and  beautiful  in  books  and 
men.  I  could  bring  you  facts  that  would  em 
bellish  all  your  mortal  years,  but  ah!  still  this 
daily  grief:  There  is  not  time. 

This  very  day  have  I  been  reading  some 
what  and  long  especially  to  impart,  but  it  would 
take  you  a  deep  silent  night-hour  to  enjoy  it, 
and  will  you  have  such  an  one  to  spare? 

The  little  notice  gave  the  glad  certainty 
that  you  will  remain  a  good  part  of  the  blissful 
May  month.  Last  night  which  was  so  beautiful, 
I  thought  sadly  that  I  had  not  en j  oyed  this  moon 
with  you,  and  should  not,  but  you  will  at  least 
see  the  May  moon  grow  with  us.  I  am  willing 
to  see  her  wane  alone.  If  you  are  here  some 
moonlight  evening,  I  shall  bring  you  up  here, 
and  show  you  the  loveliness  I  see  from  my  win 
dow, — to  me  enough  to  repay  my  coming  to 
New  York.  I  keep  your  guitar  by  this  window ; 
if  only  I  could  play  upon  it ! 

Mit  SelinsucTit,  ja  —  infinite,  exquisite, 
tremulously  lovely,  as  this  light  upon  the  waters. 
But  Wehmuth!  Ah !  the  word  is  faint  to  express 
the  depth  of  shadow,  which  yet  the  soul  would 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  57 

not  be  without,  for  is  it  not  the  overshadowing      LETTER 
of  a  heavenly  birth?  XXI 

I  had  this  morning  the  fairest  rose,  which 
my  little  lover  Eddie  Spring  sent  me,  the  only 
child  of  his  rose-bush.  I  wanted  to  send  it  to 
you,  as  the  reply  to  your  note,  but  his  mother 
was  by,  and  I  could  not  act  out  the  perfidy  of 
my  heart,  so  it  went  home  with  me  in  the  hot  sun 
and  withered  so. 

This  day  has  been  one  rapture;  nature  had 
decked  herself  during  the  rain  with  a  thousand 
new  charms,  the  most  tender  and  delicate.  The 
trees  are  in  their  fragrant  veil  of  blossoms,  the 
green  deepening,  the  leaves  opening  each  mo 
ment,  every  flower  awake;  the  winds  and  waves 
full  of  happy  inspiration. 

You  can  have  no  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the 
myrtle-bed,  as  I  pass  to  go  down  where  we  have 
been  together,  low  on  the  rocks ;  it  is  now  one 
heaven  of  blue  flowers.  I  gathered  two  buds, 
one  for  you  and  one  for  me.  While  I  sat  there, 
it  seemed  too  bad,  that  you  were  probably  in  the 
midst  of  dust,  and  of  what  your  generous  soul 
rejects  far  more  painfully  than  the  body  can 
its  kindred  earth.  But  soon,  soon  you  will  be 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXI 


where  you  can  expand  and  let  your  own  life 
grow.  When  I  sit  alone  on  these  rocks,  I  shall, 
at  least,  think  it  is  well  with  you  or  besser!  As 
you  tell  me  of  this  uncongenial  life,  I  feel  it  all, 
but  long  to  lay  a  soft  hand  on  your  forehead, 
there  between  the  eyebrows,  where  it  makes  you 
knit  them  so. 

Say,  have  not  I  the  force  to  bless  you  from 
the  distance  ?  At  evening  you  occupy  me  much. 
I  know  you  are  freer  and  often  it  seems  that  you 
are  thinking  of  me.  But  the  morning  is  the  time 
I  am  most  drawn  towards  you ;  often  the  image 
comes  as  the  light  first  salutes  my  eyes;  some 
times  I  have  a  rush  of  feeling,  that  seems  like 
the  passage  of  a  spirit  through  me,  and  ought 
to  flow  to  you  like  blessing.  This  is  the  most 
beautiful  feeling  I  ever  experienced ;  it  is  indeed 
divine,  and  too  much  for  mortal  force:  there  is 
no  music  for  it;  it  can  never,  I  fear  me,  be  ex 
pressed.  I  have  abjured  dread,  and  yet  with  it 
comes  dread,  lest  it  return  no  more.  Like  sunset 
it  cannot  be  remembered.  Farewell,  dear  Friend, 
bless  me  if  you  can. 

P.  S.  Since  finishing,  I  receive  nearly  forty 
dollars  from  Boston.  I  send  you  a  leaf  of  the 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  59 

note,  that  you  may  see — my  daughters  are  as      LETTER 
good  as  yours.     My  friend,  Mrs.  Ward,  gave 
me  five  dollars,  that  with  yours  is  enough! 

The  moon  has  just  risen;  oh  it  is  almost  too 
beautiful.  I  hope  you  feel  as  happy  as  I  do. 
This  moment  is  so  happy,  when  human  beings 
are  kind  and  do  not  jar  with  Nature. 


Sunday  evening,  27th  April.         LETTER 

XXII 

MY  BELOVED  FRIEND, 

For  from  its  short  and  dissatisfying  flights 
my  mind  returns  to  rest  on  the  broad  certainty 
that  such  you  really  are.  The  mists  have  given 
place  to  a  lovely  shower,  which  refreshes  the 
trees,  while  it  makes  the  blossoms  fall.  I  have  a 
fire  in  my  own  room,  and  the  evening  light  falls 
on  the  pictures,  gifts  of  a  most  cherished  hand, 
which  have  been  my  companions,  ever  since  my 
earthly  father  died.  I  feel  quite  happy  now, 
it  seems  domestic  in  the  stillness,  and,  my  heav 
enly  Father,  it  is  that  makes  the  "  home."  He, 
I  feel,  will  care  for  me.  He  will  make  me  to 
bear  the  want  of  the  soft,  mother's  arms,  and 
father's  sheltering  breast,  and  the  music  of 


60  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  love's  heart-beat  tuned  to  perfect  melody.  He 
will  help  me  not  to  misjudge  my  fellow  men,  and 
to  bear  the  weight  of  spirit's  mystery,  though 
it  must  turn  me  pale. 

"  The  beautiful  are  never  desolate 
For  some  one  always  loves  them,  God  or  man, 
If  man  forsakes — God  himself  takes  them," 

and  I  am  surely  one  of  the  beautiful,  so  far  that 
the  soul  is  full  of  beauty. 

This  day  has  been  like  life  as  it  is  in  the 
blossoming  sweetness  of  outward  nature  and  the 
equally  sweet  promises  of  the  eye,  the  brutal  at 
tacks  of  wicked  men,  and  the  shrewd  comments 
of  worldly  ones,  no  less  than  the  Tantalus  cup 
filled  for  one  another  by  two,  who  really  meet, — 
if  not  enough.  The  life  that  will  be  is  the  fruit 
of  this  worm-assailed  flower. 

Fate  will  not  grant  both  at  once  it  seems, 
the  joys  of  absence  and  of  presence.  The  day 
we  passed  together,  Wednesday,  I  enjoyed 
thoroughly,  except  the  hour  we  spent — I  know 
not  why — in  mining  in  one  another's  hearts. 
Perhaps  we  found  treasure  by  doing  so,  and  yet 
the  rest  of  the  day  had  been  passed  merely  in 
culling  what  grows  on  the  surface  of  the  earth, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


61 


and  that  is  so  entirely  sweet.  Yet  that  day 
ended  in  satisfaction,  too,  and  I  drew  nearer  to 
you.  I  did  not  wish  to  speak  of  it  to-day, 
but  never  have  I  felt  anything  like  that  night 
after  writing  the  note,  which  you  so  clearly 
saw  was  but  an  evasion.  What  I  felt  that 
night  was  worth  our  knowing  one  another,  for 
it  was  beautiful  and  full  indeed.  But  these 
times  of  pure  soul  communion  are  almost  too 
much  for  my  strength.  All  is  so  rapid;  in  real 
intercourse,  such  as  that  of  the  day  we  rode,  life 
proceeds  with  a  gentle  tranquil  step,  and  her 
fresh  green  garland  is  better  than  the  halo,  till 
one  be  to  that  crown  of  light  gewachsen. 

My  friend,  I  send  you  a  book  with  which, 
more  than  any,  except  Wilhelm  Meister,  I  have 
sympathized.  These  two  books  express  some 
thing  of  the  peculiar  life  of  this  age  of  which 
we  are  part.  I  know  not  what  it  is — on  us  lies 
the  weight  of  giving  it  to  the  light.  Tennyson 
knows  some  things  about  it,  but  none  like  this 
man.  Keep  it  by  you  a  week  or  two;  there  is 
much  that  might  tire,  but  your  eye  may  fall  on 
passages  that  go  deep,  and  which  you  may  un 
derstand  as  well  as  I  or  better.  The  person,  who 


LETTER 
XXII 


62 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXII 


called  me  unnatural,  or  rather  my  way  of  view 
ing  things  so,  said,  that  if  I  had  the  experience 
of  passionate  life,  it  would  alter  my  view.  Such 
an  experience  has  this  Festus  and  you  too,  I  sup 
pose  ;  perhaps  that  is,  what  you  mean  by  unlike- 
ness  in  our  experiences. 

We  parted  in  the  lane  and  went  our  opposite 
ways,  and  I  thought :  my  brother  wishes  to  make 
his  existence  more  poetic,  I  need  mine  should  be 
more  deeply  real;  must  we  go  opposite  ways  in 
the  same  road? 

I  send  the  little  gift,  but  you  will  not  wear 
it  for  a  daily  companion;  yours  to  me  is  also 
something  that  I  shall  lay  aside,  to  look  at  only 
now  and  then,  but  it  is  a  thing  exquisitely  fair 
and  pure ;  and  mine  to  you  is  a  memento  of  that 
truly  human  heart,  which  first  turned  mine  to 
you,  for  I  saw  you  had  a  heart  for  all  mankind.1 

In  return  let  me  say  one  thing.  The  sadness, 
that  lingers  in  memory  of  that  period,  when 
your  spirit-life  took  its  painful  birth,  is  almost 
gone.  These  are  the  last  bitter  drops  which  I 
drink  with  you. 

1  Marginal  note  to  letter  :  "Here  is  not  the  exact  truth, 
and  yet  it  seemed  so,  while  writing." 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


I  cannot  bear  to  write  any  more  except :  God 
bless  you  and  protect  me. 

Tuesday  evening. 

This  morning  brought  on  its  glittering 
wings  your  letter  written  at  the  same  time  with 
mine.  (I  expected  to  receive  it  this  morning.) 

As  always  you  express  yourself  with  more 
simple  force  than  I  can,  but  the  mood  was  iden 
tical  in  both  of  us.  When  writing,  I  had  your 
flower  by  me.  Well  did  I  understand,  when  you 
likened  yourself  to  that  flower.  The  passage  in 
yours,  beginning  "  Oh  for  wings  "  receive  back 
in  echo,  for  even  in  words  I  said  it  to  myself  also. 
Now  I  will  not  send  you  Festus — there  is  no 
time  for  books  and  no  poem  like  the  poem  we  can 
make  for  ourselves. 

This  day  has  been  to  me  one  of  rapturous 
joy;  the  earth  has  decked  herself  in  such  beauty 
as  if  for  the  fairest  of  festivals ;  it  is  impossible 
not  to  meet  her,  it  is  incredible — the  dawning  of 
sweetness  since  yesterday. 

Many  deep  things  have  also  dawned  in  my 
thought  which  are  yours,  but  to-night  they  can- 


LETTER 
XXII 


64  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  not  be  expressed,  for  I  feel  subdued.  My  head 
is  heavy,  let  me  lean  it  on  your  shoulder,  and  you 
divine  these  deep  things. 

A  sweet  good-night. 


LETTER  May  day. 

XXIII 

This  bleak  morning  is  like  those  by  which 
the  hopes  of  the  children  in  my  native  state  (of 
the  rock-bound  coast  and  terrible  climate)  are 
almost  always  disappointed.  The  world  is  full 
of  blossoms,  but  they  are  not  happy  in  this  cold 
air.  I  meant  to  have  sent  you  some  of  the  fair 
est,  but  now  will  not.  Let  everything  be  alike 
in  so  bleak  a  day.  You  too  will  pass  it  in  the 
midst  of  car-men. 

After  you  went  away  the  other  night,  I  felt 
unusually  grieved,  not  to  have  shown  my  soul 
more.  I  felt  so  deeply  all  you  felt  about  this 
mis-tuned  life,  and  longed  to  express  my  sym 
pathy  in  a  thousand  sweet  ways,  but  the  things 
that  come  to  me  to  do  are  so  childish.  I  have 
not  courage,  being  growrn  up,  and  they  sometimes 
mutiny  with  the  forms  of  the  world.  But  the 
thoughts  I  had,  with  the  swell  of  their  religion, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  65 

kept  me  awake  all  night,  and  thus  I  was  unfit      LETTER 
to  meet  a  very  fatiguing  day,  and  last  night, 
tired  and  with  headache,  could  not  write.     Thus 
it  so  often  is.     Feeling  keeps  from  doing,  what 
would  show  it. 

The  Editor  is  gone  away  till  Sunday  and 
the  evenings  are  open  to  music.  Will  you  not 
come  to-morrow  evening?  You  know  there  was 
to  be  one  with  the  guitar  and  there  may  not  be 
such  another  free  opportunity. 

Farewell,  mem  Liebster.  Shall  I  not  find  a 
letter?  I  want  one. 

Friday  evening.          LETTER 

XXIV 

You  come  not,  dear  friend.  The  day  was 
full  of  golden  sunlight,  and  kind  words  and 
deeds  as  well,  for  the  thought  of  you  stood  at 
the  end,  but  you  come  not.  My  head  has  ached 
ever  since  you  were  here,  and  needed  you  to  take 
away  its  pain — but  you  come  not. 

You  said  once,  I  was  too  sensitive  and  that 
such  little  disappointments  would  affect  me.  It 
is  indeed  the  absence  of  the  light,  but  would 
never  affect  me  any  other  way,  where  I  am  sure 
of  love  as  I  am  of  yours ;  but  that  absence  is  sad. 


66  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  The  shadows  and  damps  of  evening  settle  down 
upon  me  as  they  do  upon  the  earth,  for  where 
is  the  torch  that  was  to  cheer  the  in-door  re 
tirement  ! 

You  come  not — and  now  I  realize,  that  soon 
will  be  the  time,  when  evening  will  come  always, 
but  you  will  come  no  more. 

We  shall  meet  in  soul,  but  the  living  eye  of 
love,  that  is  in  itself  almost  a  soul,  that  will  beam 
no  more. 

O  Heaven,  O  God,  or  by  whatsoever  name  I 
may  appeal ;  surely,  surely  —  O  All-causing, 
Thou  must  be  the  All-sustaining,  All-fulfilling 
too.  I,  from  Thee  sprung,  do  not  feel  force  to 
bear  so  much  as  one  of  these  deep  impulses  in 
vain !  Nor  is  it  enough  that  the  heavenly  magic 
of  its  touch  throws  open  all  the  treasure-cham 
bers  of  the  universe,  if  these  enchanted  doors 
must  close  again. 

My  little  rose-tree  casts  its  shadow  on  the 
paper.  They  bade  me  cut  it  down  to  make  it 
blossom,  and  so  have  I  done,  though  with  a 
reluctant  hand.  So  is  it  on  this  earth.  But  not 
so  will  it  always  be.  The  soul  protests  against  it, 
and  sometime,  somewhere  claims  its  own  in  full. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  67 

Wilt  thou  search  out  such  mysteries  ir  the  LETTER 
solitude  of  the  cave?  Wilt  thou  prepare  for 
men  an  image  fair  and  grand  enough  of  hope? 
Give  that  to  men  at  large,  but  to  me  send  some 
little  talisman,  that  may  be  worn  next  the  secret 
heart.  And  let  it  have  a  diamond  point,  that 
may  pierce  when  any  throb  swells  too  far  to  keep 
time  with  the  divine  frame  of  things.  We 
would  not,  however,  stifle  one  natural  note,  only 
tune  all  sweet. 

My  head  aches  still  and  I  must  lean  it  on  the 
paper  as  I  write,  so  the  writing  goes  all  amiss. 
Ah !  I  really  needed  you  to-night  and  you  could 
not  come — yet  you  are  not  away  from  me;  are 
you  ?  I  long  to  hear  whether  the  most  wearisome 
part  of  your  winding  up  is  not  now  over.  May 
morning,  after  thinking  it  was  unfit  to  send  the 
flowers,  I  changed  my  mind,  for  it  seemed  per 
haps  they  might  not  be  uncongenial  in  the  even 
ing  after  the  fret  and  dust  of  the  day  were  over. 
— Farewell. 


Evening.  LETTER 

xxv 
I  am  seized  with  feelings  of  regret  for  thee, 

and  seem  to  enter  into  thy  mind.     How  selfishly 


68  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  I  fret  for  loss  of  my  pet  dream,  to  walk  like  a 
child  with  its  brave  playmate.  Is  not  yours 
broken  just  as  much,  finding  so  much  of  mortal 
in  your  angel?  "  And  yet,"  said  Beethoven  at 
such  a  time,  "  there  is  the  god-like  in  man !  " 
There  is  also  the  angel-like  in  woman — she  is 
thus  angelic  long  before  she  is  angel.  We  love 
what  is  pure.  You,  I  believe,  will  never  regret 
aught  that  makes  your  poetic  soul  more  con 
scious  of  its  hidden  treasures. 

All  shall  yet  be  so  sweet,  gaining,  like  the 
plants,  beauty  and  fragrance  from  these  cold 
rain-storms.  The  blossoms,  for  which  I  begged 
you  to  stay,  are  opening  on  the  trees ;  will  you 
not  take  me  into  the  country  the  first  fine  da}T? 
The  dust  will  now  be  laid  and  the  air  pure  after 
the  storm.  Will  it  be  inconvenient  to  you  on 
Saturday,  if  the  weather  is  fine?  I  stay  in  town 
that  day  to  attend  the  Philharmonic  concert  in 
the  evening. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spring  wished  me  to  go  to 
Staten  Island  on  Sunday,  but  I  have  not  said 
yet  whether  I  would  go,  and  I  hate  the  thought 
of  going,  thinking  it  might  be  the  only  day 
on  which  I  could  see  you.  But  you  said  last 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


Sunday,  you  had  parting  visits  to  make;  per 
haps  it  will  be  so  next  Sunda3T.  Let  me  know 
about  this  on  Saturday  morning,  and  if  not, 
whether  I  shall  see  you  on  Sunday,  that  I  may 
know  how  to  arrange.  And  will  you  let  the  little 
messenger  be  in  waiting  for  me  at  Dr.  Leger's 
at  nine,  or  a  few  minutes  before,  on  Saturday 
morning.  I  feel  a  growing  persuasion  that  we 
shall  now  meet  most  sweetly,  and  that  our  minds 
will  be  tuned  in  the  same  key  and  tuned  with 
nature.  So  as  you  have  begged  of  me  not  to 
grieve  or  be  weary,  let  me  pray  of  you  not  to  be 
oppressed  or  embarrassed  any  more. 


LETTER 
XXV 


Wednesday  evening,  7th. 

Mein  Liebster,  do  not  reproach  yourself  as 
the  cause  of  what  I  suffered  yesterday,  for  the 
fault  was  with  my  own  imprudence.  I  knew  I 
was  not  well  able  to  stand  or  walk,  but  there 
was  no  good  place  to  sit  still,  and  I  was  so  bent 
on  hearing  you  out,  I  could  not  bear  to  say  this. 
I  wish  much  I  were  strong,  that  I  might  be  a  fit 
companion  for  you  and  not  weigh  upon  your 
motions.  Coming  home,  I  lay  down  in  the  dark 


LETTER 
XXVI 


7° 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXVI 


room,  and  the  dark  was  what  I  wanted.  Shut 
ting  out  all  outward  objects,  the  thoughts  seem 
to  grow  upon  me  and  clothe  themselves  in  forms 
and  colors  so  glorious.  Much,  much  appeared 
before  the  closed  eyes.  Mem  Liebster,  you  tell 
me  to  rest,  but  how  can  I  rest  when  you  rouse  in 
me  so  many  thoughts  and  feelings  ?  What  good 
does  it  do  for  you  to  stay  away,  when,  absent 
or  present,  every  hour  you  grow  upon  me  and 
the  root  strikes  to  my  inmost  life !  There  is  far 
more  repose  in  being  with  you,  when  your  look 
fills  my  eye  and  your  voice  my  ear,  than  in  try 
ing  to  keep  still,  for  then  these  endless  thoughts 
rush  upon  me.  And  then  comes,  too,  that  tor 
menting  sense  that  only  a  few  days  more  shall  we 
be  together,  and  how  can  I  rest,  though  indeed 
I  am  desirous  to  do  as  you  desire. 

It  was  hard  for  me  to  have  you  pass  from 
the  door  unseen  by  me.  I  would  have  given 
much  to  call  you  to  me  for  one  cheering  moment, 
but  that  the  customs  of  this  world  did  not  per 
mit,  and  I  was  unable  to  rise  and  go  to  you.  It 
is  impossible  now  for  me  to  express  the  many 
thoughts  born  in  my  mind  from  yours,  but  time 
and  unison  will  perhaps  perfect  them  and  enable 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  71 

me  to  do  it ;  if  not,  it  is  no  matter,  as  they  are      LETTER 
all  yours  and  must  at  any  rate  bloom  in  your 
garden,  perhaps  far  larger  and  fairer.     Yet  the 
birds  from  your  own  bosom  should  return  per 
fected  in  beauty  and  song  to  their  nest. 

I  send  you  within  a  little  poem.  It  is  one 
of  those  I  wrote  last  Summer  when  living  quite 
alone  in  a  country  house,  near  a  thick  wood, 
where  I  passed  many  sweet  hours.  It  seems  to 
me  a  prelude  to  this  time.  How  much  in  the  past 
so  seems,  were  but  one  full  strain  permitted ! 

O  my  God !  My  friend,  unspeakably  affect 
ing  to  me  was  your  appeal  to  the  angels.  I 
also  bow  the  head  to  their  commands,  to  their 
prohibitions.  But  that  is  only  on  one  side.  On 
the  other,  life  seems  so  full,  so  creative.  Every 
hour  an  infinite  promise.  I  cannot  keep  in  mind 
prohibitions  or  barriers  or  fates.  You  said: 
"  write  without  concentration,"  and  surely  I  have 
done  so,  written  I  know  not  what,  for  the  sense 
of  all  that  has  flowed  through  my  mind,  confuses 
it,  and  makes  my  head  ache  again.  But  take  it 
gently,  and  take  me  near  your  heart.  I  must 
stop  now  and  make  one  of  those  attempts  to 
rest. 


J2  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  I  will  be  out  at  quarter  past  ten,  will  walk 

towards  Bowling  Green  and  then  back  again. 

Poem,  hitherto  unpublished 

July,  1844. 

MOONLIGHT,   GENTLE  SHOWERS 

Lead,  lunar  ray 
To  the  crossing  of  the  way, 
Where  to  secret  rite 
Rises  the  armed  knight, 
My  champion  for  the  fight. 

Fall  heavier  still,  sweet  rain, 
Free  from  their  pain 
Plants,  which  still  in  earth 
Are  prisoned  back  from  birth, — 
Teach  the  Sun  their  worth. 

Soul !  long  lie  thus  still, 
Cradled  in  the  will, 
Which  to  this  motley  ball, 
Sphere  so  great,  so  small, 
Did  thee  call. 

Suns  have  shone  on  thce 
Brooding  thy  mystery. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  73 

Now,  this  sweet  rain  LETTER 

Might  free  from  the  pain 
Of  birth  the  golden  grain. 

Yet  within  the  nest 
Patience  still  were  best, 
Birds  of  my  thought! 
Food  shall  be  brought 
To  you  by  mother  Thought. 

Let  your  wings  grow  strong, 

For  the  way  is  long 

To  that  other  zone, 

Where  glows  the  throne 

Of  your  phoenix-king  so  lone. 

Nestle  still,  keep  still, 
Cradled  by  the  will 
Which  must  you  daily  fill, 
If,  while  callow,  ye  keep  still. 


Thursday  afternoon.          LETTER 

XXVII 

I  will  not  this  time  wait  till  the  dark  night 
before  I  open  my  thoughts  to  the  loved  soul  who 
has  brought  me  so  much  sunlight. 


74 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXVII 


Thou  hast  brought  me  so  much  and  I  would 
gladly  make  return.  But  I  know  you  ask  noth 
ing  of  your  moon  except  a  pure  reflection  in  a 
serene  sky. 

When  I  listen  to  your  many  perplexities,  I 
long  for  the  privilege  of  "  sage  counsel  in  cum 
ber  "  but  it  comes  not.  Yet  I  have, — have  I  not? 
— power  to  soothe  for  the  moment  by  listening, 
understanding,  loving;  and  you  have  force  and 
honour  and  aspiration  to  find  your  way  out  of 
them  all — in  time. 

You  have  force  and  take  with  you  the  sense 
that  I  am  thus  deeply  in  your  debt.  The  sense 
that  has  always  been  mine,  that  I  should  not  be 
restless,  sad,  or  weary  with  one  who  combined 
force  with  tenderness  and  delicacy,  has  become 
certainty.  This  is  much;  it  is  an  assurance, 
also  a  promise.  Yes,  there  is  one  who  under 
stands,  and  when  we  are  separated  and  I  can  no 
longer  tell  the  impulse  or  the  want  of  the  moment, 
still  I  will  not  forget  that  there  has  been  one. 

But  I  feel  that  you  begin  to  go,  that  you  are 
much  taken  from  me  already  by  your  plagues 
and  your  preparations. 

I  have  been  very  ill;  last  night  the  pain  in 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  75 

my  neck  became  so  violent,  that  I  could  not  lie  LETTER 
still  and  passed  a  night  suffering  and  sleepless. 
There  were  in  the  house  no  remedies  and  none 
to  apply  them.  I  went  crying  into  town  this 
morning,  my  nerves  all  ajar  and  the  pain  worse 
than  ever;  it  was  a  sort  of  tic  douloureux. — I 
brought  out  a  very  strong  remedy  and  since 
applying  it,  have  been  asleep.  Now,  waking 
almost  free  from  pain,  earth  seems  almost 
as  good  as  heaven.  Still,  it  hurts  me  to  lean 
down  my  head  and  write.  I  must  look  rather 
out  of  the  window  on  the  soft  shadowy  land 
scape,  which  stills  me.  Put  me  in  mind  then, 
when  we  meet,  to  say  two  or  three  little  things 
I  had  meant  to  write,  and  Lebewohl! 

How  dull  reads  this  letter,  burn  it — "  take 
the  heart  from  out  the  breast "  read  that.  Let 
me  say  in  reply  to  your  last,  that  you  had  bet 
ter  leave  my  letters.  You  will  not  find  it  of  any 
use  to  take  them  with  you.  They  have  been  like 
manna,  possible  to  use  for  food  in  their  day,  but 
they  are  not  immortal  like  their  source.  Let 
them  perish !  Let  me  burn  them.  Keep  my 
image  in  the  soul  without  such  aids  and  it  will 
be  more  livingly  true  and  avail  you  more. 


7 6  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 


Friday  evening,  May  9th. 
DEAREST, 

I  must  begin  by  "  babbling  of  green  fields." 
Though  it  be  true,  as  you  say  that  this  region 
of  beautiful  symbols  is  not  the  highest,  I  do  find 
such  relief  in  the  soft  trance,  the  still  rapture 
they  can  give.  I  live  in  their  life  and  am  nour 
ished  by  it,  as  the  infant  from  the  mother's 
breast.  Do  you  not  cease  to  love  this  region 
too.  You  shall  upbear  me  to  the  stars,  when 
your  energies  overflow,  and  I  feel  sure  that  you 
will  not  find  me  incompetent  to  be  received  in 
the  region  of  ideas.  But  let  me  sometimes  hold 
you  by  the  hand  to  linger  with  me  here  and 
listen  while  the  grass  grows ;  it  does  me  so  much 
good,  the  soft  warm  life  close  to  the  earth. 
Perhaps  it  is,  that  I  was  not  enough  a  child  at 
the  right  time,  and  now  am  too  childish ;  but  will 
you  not  have  patience  with  that? 

The  tulips  are  out  now  and  the  crimson  ones 
seem  to  me  like  you.  They  fill  gloriously  with 
the  sunlight,  and  the  petals  glow  like  gems, 
while  the  black  stamens  in  the  cup  of  the  flower 
look  so  rich  and  mystical.  I  have  gathered  two 
and  put  them  in  my  vase,  but  the  perfume  is  al- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  77 

most  overpowering;  there  are  also  two  golden  LETTER 
ones,  that  have  rooted  themselves  on  the  edge 
of  a  grassy  bank.  I  do  not  know  how  they 
could  get  there;  it  was  a  strange  elopement 
from  the  regular  flower-bed,  but  the  effect  is 
beautiful  of  flowers  so  vornehm  willing  to  be 
wild. 

I  have  been  sitting  in  the  twilight  in  the 
spot  wrhere  we  have  been  several  times.  Always 
something  unpleasant  occurred  when  we  were 
there,  but  it  has  all  endeared  us  to  one  another 
and  ennobled  the  relation.  And  now  a  shrub  has 
starred  itself  all  over  with  white  flowers  and 
bends  over  the  place.  The  young  moon  bent  her 
pure  crescent  above  the  rocks,  my  parapet  be 
hind;  the  waves  stole  in,  vibrating  through  the 
silence  with  insidious  murmur.  Spulen! — how 
expressive  is  the  German  word ;  we  have  none  like 
it.  In  this  enchanting  solitude,  I  thought  of 
thee,  of  thy  great  thoughts.  I  have  well  under 
stood  all  that  has  been  told  me.  Do  not  hesi 
tate  to  unfold  the  whole,  only,  indeed,  in  the 
musical  order.  I  feel  sure  of  being  equal  to 
it.  Indeed,  it  seems  as  if  there  had  been  a 
gradual  and  steady  preparation  in  me  to  hear 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXVIII 


it  all.  It  will  not  be  in  vain  that  we  have  met. 
Whatever  be  your  destiny,  whether  you  be  born 
to  give  form  to  these  ideas,  or  are  only  the  har 
binger,  the  father  of  him  who  is  to  come, — that 
they  have  been  uttered  on  earth  and  found  their 
due  vibration,  predicts  that  their  fulfilment  is 
near.  Man  shall  stand  upon  the  earth  as  Man, 
and  no  more  content  himself  with  specific  titles 
and  partial  claims. 

My  dearest,  I  feel  a  deep  desire  to  utter  my 
self,  to  answer  the  inspirations  of  your  life  from 
my  inmost  soul,  but  I  cannot.  The  easy  powers, 
the  superficial  eloquence  all  fail  me  here.  The 
little  wings  on  my  feet  upbear  me  in  the  world, 
but  they  are  not  strong  enough  here.  You  would 
have  to  take  me  to  heart  and  read  my  silence, 
but  I  believe  you  will. 

Since  I  began  to  write,  I  grow  more  power 
less,  whether  that  you  are  thinking  of  me  now, 
or  from  the  sense  of  your  thoughts  that  have 
been  poured  upon  me,  I  do  not  know  this  time. 
But  often  I  feel,  that  you  are  thinking  of  me 
and  it  takes  away  all  power  of  thought  or  mo 
tion.  You  say  it  will  not  always  be  so,  that  by- 
and-bye  it  will  stimulate  me  to  be  more  myself. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


79 


This  may  be.  There  is  at  present  so  much  for 
me  to  assimilate  and  absorb.  Could  I  indeed  but 
let  it  rest  in  me  till  I  grow  to  the  stature  of  what 
I  feel.  You  know  how  it  will  be,  since  you  have 
the  secret  of  this  vital  energy.  You  must  know 
how  it  works  in  all  forms  of  life,  especially  in 
mine,  with  which  you  are  now  in  conjunction. 
I  feel  the  most  tender  reliance,  and  also  faith, 
that  I  shall  never  be  a  trouble  to  you.  I  observe, 
that  it  is  with  you,  as  it  has  been  with  me  in 
many  cases.  You  attract  beings  so  much,  that 
after  a  while  it  is  too  much  for  their  good  or 
your  pleasure.  Then  comes  the  painful  retro 
grade  motion.  But  I  feel  confident  that  my 
angel  will  not  let  it  be  so  with  me.  I  have  never 
been  able  to  go  a  step,  where  you  did  not  take 
me.  Now,  when  I  want  you  most,  I  feel  that  I 
cannot  seek  you,  unless  you  do  me.  So  not  even 
by  a  thought  shall  I  be  permitted  to  follow  you, 
where  I  cannot  accompany. 

Now  there  is  more  and  far  better  to  be  said, 
but  again  I  cannot.  Yet  it  is  delightful  to  know 
that  you  will  read  all  that  is  left  unsaid.  Now 
why  say  anything? — but  it  is  sweet  to  express 
all  one  can. 


LETTER 
XXVIII 


8o  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  Michelangelo,   whenever   he   paints   a    great 

form  full  of  soul,  paints  young  cherubs  near, 
so  powerful  radiant  and  gentle;  these  are  the 
thoughts  of  that  soul  at  that  moment.  May 
such  attend  you  now,  my  friend !  And  in  love, 
good-night. 

P.  S.  Do  not  come  into  Wall  Street  for  me 
Sunday  morning  till  twenty  minutes  past  ten 
and  then  I  will  come  so  soon  as  I  can,  but  some 
times  they  will  keep  me,  talking. 

If  it  rains  Sunday  morning  I  suppose  I  shall 
go  to  church,  as  then  I  could  not  see  you  this 
proposed  way.  But  I  do  hope  for  sunshine. 

LETTER  Friday  evening. 

XXIX 

I  have  been  quite  unwell,  so  that  I  could  not 
go  to  town  to-day,  but  hope  to  to-morrow.  Yes 
terday  I  wrote  some  lines  but  think  they  will  not 
come  with  this,  lest  they  be  morbid  or  languid. 
It  were  best  to  write  only  when  well  to  my  friend 
who  is  well.  Hoping  news  of  you  in  the  morn 
ing,  no  more  to-night,  for  the  mood  is  not 
brighter  than  the  skies  without.  May  yours  be 
more  so,  and  daylight  be  seen  amid  all  your  per 
plexities,  is  the  last  thought ! 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  81 

Saturday  morning.  LETTER 

y  yjy 

I  remain  here  a  little  while,  twenty  minutes 
perhaps,  cannot  you  send  a  note  to  tell  me, 
whether  you  still  expect  to  go  early  in  the  week. 
I  thought  you  would  write  to  me  this  morning, 
you  cannot  be  less  able  just  now  than  I. 


Monday  evening,  19th  May.          LETTER 

XXX 

DEAREST  FRIEND, 

For  such  I  cannot  choose  but  have  thee,  oh 
it  was  a  waste  of  this  heavenly  day  to  walk  upon 
that  terrace  away  from  the  gentle  growing 
things  and  talk  about  these  barriers  that  keep 
us  apart.  Better  to  forget  them !  better  be  blest 
in  the  affinities  while  we  may ! 

And  then  you  have  so  much  more  energy  and 
spirit  for  the  fight!  I  must  try  not  to  throw 
down  the  poor  little  silk  glove  again  in  defiance 
of  the  steel  gauntlet.  And  you,  oh  set  up  no 
mental  limits  against  me;  do  not,  I  pray. 

Is  it  not  hard  on  my  side?  You  can  think 
what  thoughts  of  conquest  you  will,  and  I  can 
not  disprove  them  to  you.  On  the  other  side  you 
must  be  as  the  stone,  if  I  give  way  to  feelings 


82 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXX 


of  love  and  reliance,  and  you  have  jour  myste 
rious  reasons  against  me  there.  You  talk  to  me 
with  such  cold  wisdom  sometimes,  I  do  not  know 
the  brother  of  my  soul,  to  whom  I  had  but  just 
flown. 

Next  time  we  must  go  to  Hoboken — it  is  not 
so  confined  there.  You  must  tell  me  things,  and  I 
will  forget  myself;  that  is  always  the  best  way. 
I  look  up  the  free  and  noble  river.  I  feel  myself 
associated  with  you  in  the  new  religion  and  that 
suits  me,  but  to-day  you  put  me  in  the  dust,  and 
a  hundred  miles  from  you,  too. 

This  afternoon,  though,  a  singular  change 
took  place  in  my  feelings.  I  am  curious  to  know, 
whether  induced  by  you,  or  rising  in  myself,  and 
shall  ask  you  so  soon  as  we  meet. 

There  has  been  the  most  glorious  thunder- 
shower.  I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  it.  Now  the 
moon  is  shining  queenly.  I  must  be  with  you 
one  more  moonlight  evening.  She  seems  to  bless 
so  purely.  I  feel  all  fears  and  piques  melt  as 
I  look  upon  her.  Yet  through  pain,  through 
pain,  sweet  Queen,  must  we  come  to  where  thy 
pale  mother's  smile  calls.  As  says  Novalis : 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  83 

No  angel  can  ascend  to  heaven  LETTER 

Till  the  whole  heart  has  fallen  to  the  earth  in  ashes. 

Might  these  be  the  right  lines  ?  I  cannot  remem 
ber  what  they  are.  Come  to-morrow  morning 
without  fail. 

Tuesday  evening.          LETTER 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  XXXI 

I  have  just  had  with  Mrs.  Greeley  a  talk  in 
full,  which  may,  I  hope,  be  of  use,  so  that  before 
you  go,  an  interview  will,  indeed,  leave  things 
straight. 

I  believe  I  ought  to  have  been  angry  writh 
you  the  other  evening  for  asking  whether  I  had 
ever  told  her  what  you  had  communicated  to  me 
in  confidence.  How  could  such  a  thought  cross 
a  mind  like  yours?  The  scene  was  so  beautiful 
and  I  so  moved  I  could  not  bear  to  be  angry,  but 
ought  I  not  to  have  been  so?  Would  not  you 
have  been  so  at  such  a  doubt  from  me? 

To-day  has  been  very  lovely,  fragrant  and 
fresh  after  yesterday's  shower,  a  new  era,  too, 
of  blossoms.  But  I  was  up  at  five  o'clock  to  write 
for  the  paper,  and  have  been  in  society  ever 
since,  up  to  this  date,  half-past  nine.  Yesterday 


84  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      it  was  just  the  same,  so  I  have  no  thoughts  to  give 

XXXI 

you.  I  have  not  had  time  to  let  any  grow.  You 
too  have  been  engaged  in  just  such  dissipation 
of  thought  and  feeling.  Ah !  it  is  painful,  when 
we  might  be  so  much  to  one  another.  I  look  to 
another  meeting,  to  cherish  life  anew.  To-mor 
row  at  furthest  let  it  be ! 

Now  there  is  only  one  little  week  left.  Yes ! 
the  memory  of  Sunday  evening  is  sweet  to  me. 
If  a  flow  of  gentle  love  be  natural,  surely  there 
was  nature.  But  why  do  you  say — you  were 
less  the  genuine  man  ?  You  must  always  instruct 
me  very  clearly.  I  am  a  dull  scholar,  though 
perhaps  a  good  atmosphere. 

About  the  evening  I  feel  simply : 

"There  is  no  silence — it  is  music  ceased." 

But  all  you  said  to  me  in  the  morning  lies 
distinct  in  my  mind.  I  understood  that  deeply— 
the  history ! 

My  friend,  take  this  note  kindly,  though  it 
be  not  much.  Find  nothing  to  "jar"  in  it. 
There  is  nothing  in  my  mind.  I  seek  inspiration 
from  your  thoughts,  life  from  your  life.  I  seek 
repose  upon  your  heart.  One  little  week ;  it  is 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  85 

long  enough  for  a  drama,  but  to  the  good  chil-      LETTER 


XXXI 


dren  might  it  not  be  one  hymn? 

Friday  evening,  May  <23d.          LETTER 
DEAE  FRIEND,  xxxn 

I  do  not  just  now  find  anything  to  write ;  the 
fact  of  an  approaching  separation  presses  on 
my  mind,  and  makes  me  unable  to  make  the  best 
use  of  the  hours  that  remain.  I  will  therefore 
borrow  from  the  past.  Many  little  things  have 
made  me  feel  as  if  there  had  been  a  gradual  and 
divinely  moved  preparation  for  our  meeting. 
To-day  I  took  out  of  the  portfolio  some  leaves, 
written  last  autumn  among  the  mountains,  and 
found  there  these  lines,  which  will  impress  you 
from  their  consonance,  in  some  respects,  with 
what  you  have  since  uttered  to  me.  Many  such 
things  I  write  down.  They  seem  dictated  to  me, 
and  are  not  understood  fully  at  the  time.  They 
are  of  the  things,  which  are  received  mystically 
long  before  they  are  appreciated  intellectually. 

Perhaps  you  had  better  destroy  them — not 
now — for  you  will  hardly  be  at  leisure  for  them 
yet,  but  sometime  when  you  feel  ready,  as  they 
are  so  intimately  personal. 


86 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXXII 


I  wish  you  would  ask  me  to  explain  the  differ 
ence,  the  Greeks  made  between  the  moon  as 
Hecate  and  as  Diana,  and  the  allusions  to  the 
girdle  of  Apollo,  and  at  the  conclusion — to  Tan 
talus;  these  are  beautiful  things  in  the  Greek 
mythology,  which  you  will  appreciate. 

I  feel  it  is  true  what  you  say,  that  in  the  new 
and  greater  religion  we  shall  rise  above  the  need 
of  this  mythology ;  for  all  which  they  intimated 
in  poetry  we  must  realize  in  life,  but  as  yet  I 
cling  to  these  beautiful  forms  as  I  do  to  the 
green  and  flowery  earth,  and  again  will  say,  lin 
ger  with  me  here  a  while. 

Our  friend,  here,  asks  anxiously — whether 
you  are  gone  yet?  She  expresses  a  great  desire 
to  hear  you  play  on  your  guitar  once  more,  and  I 
am  glad  you  left  it ;  we  will  pass  an  hour  together 
so.  She  is  really  quite  content  about  us  now. 

I  am  not  well.  You  cannot  bend  your  mind 
on  me  now.  I  know  it  is  not  because  you  love 
me  less,  but  because  there  are  necessarily  so  many 
things,  at  present,  to  distract.  But  I  feel  it. 
The  strength  that  was  only  given  is  gone.  Or 
rather  it  was  not  given,  only  lent,  but  you  would 
have  given  it,  if  you  could,  I  know. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  87 


Later.  LETTER 

XXXIII 


I  have  copied  out  the  poem  and  hope  there 
are  no  words  miswrit,  but  cannot  read  it  over. 
Do  not  smile  at  all,  Liebster.  I  am  a  little  afraid 
of  your  smiles,  and  it  is  only  in  the  deepest  recess 
of  our  mutual  life  I  could  have  shown  it  you, 
for  to  me  it  is  prophecy. 

Poem,  hitherto  unpublished 
AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS,   OCTOBER,   1844 

Afternoon  in  the  dell,  where  was 

A  broken  fall  and  many-voiced, 

With  evergreens  and  red  and  golden  trees 

At  varying  elevations  grouped  around, 

Its  basin  hid  and  cool  and  circular 

On  which  the  leaves  rested  as  dreamily, 

As  if  the  stream  could  never  wake  again ; 

The  mountains  towered  around,  purple  and  rose ; 

The  sun,  still  climbing,  vainly  sought  to  peer 

Into  that  still  recess. 

My  soul  sank  there 

A  prayer  that  Intellect  with  its  broad  light 
Will  ne'er  reveal,  nor  even  clearly  know, 
But  Nature  holds  it  to  her  secret  heart. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


TO  THE  FACE  SEEN  IN  THE  MOON 

XXXIII 

Evening  moonlight . 

Oft,  from  the  shadow  of  my  earthly  sphere, 
I  looked  to  thee,  orb  of  pale  pearly  light, 
To  lose  the  weariness  of  doubt  and  fear 
In  thy  soft  mother-smile  so  pensive  bright. 
Thou  seemedst  far  and  safe  and  chastely  liv 
ing, 

Graceful  and  thoughtful,  loving,  beauty-giving ; 
But,  if  I  steadfast  gaze  upon  thy  face, 
A  human  secret,  like  our  own  I  trace, 
For,  through  the  woman's  smile  looks  the  male 

eye 

So  mildly,  steadfastly,  but  mournfully. 
He  holds  the  bush  to  point  us  to  his  cave, 
Teaching  anew  the  truth  so  bright,  so  grave: 
Escape  not  from  the  riddle  of  the  earth. 
Through  mortal  pangs  to  win  immortal  birth, 
Both  men  and  woman  from  the  natural  womb 
Must  slowly  win  the  secrets  of  the  tomb, 
And  then,  together  rising,  fragrant,  clear, 
Be  worthy  angels  of  a  better  sphere. 
Diana's  beauty  shows  what  Hecate  wrought, 
Apollo's  lustre  rays  the  Zodiac  thought, 


Love -Letter  s  of  Margaret  Fuller 


In  Leo  regal,  as  in  Virgo  pure,  LETTER 

As  Scorpio  secret,  as  the  Archer  sure. 

In  unpolluted  beauty  mutual  shine 

Earth,  Moon  and  Sun,  the  human  thought  divine, 

For  Earth  is  purged  by  tameless  central  fire, 

And  Moon  in  man  has  told  her  hid  desire, 

And  Time  has  found  himself  eternal  Sire 

And  the  Sun  sings  all  on  his  ray-strung  lyre. 

Steady  bear  me  on, 

Counting  life's  pulses  all  alone, 

Till  all  is  felt  and  known  and  done. 

Thus  far  have  I  conquered  fate. 

I  have  learned  to  wait, 

Nor  in  these  early  days  snatch  at  the  fruits  of 

late. 

The  man  from  the  moon 
Looks  not  for  an  instant  noon, 
But  from  its  secret  heart 
Slow  evolves  the  art 
Of  that  full  consummation  needed  part. 

For  thee,  my  Apollo, 

The  girdle  I  weave, 

From  whose  splendid  hollow 

Thy  young  breast  shall  its  impulse  receive. 


90  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      I  am  the  mother  of  thy  spirit  life, 
xxxm  .  .. 

And  so  in  law  thy  wife ; 

And  thou  art  my  sire, 
For  all  this  treasured  fire 
Learns  from  thee 
Its  destiny, 

And  our  full  mutual  birth 
Must  free  this  Earth. 
From  our  union  shall  spring 
The  promised  king 
Who,  with  white  sail  unfurled 
Shall  steer  through  heavens  of  Soul  an  unpolluted 
world. 

In  that  world. 
Earth's  tale  shall  be 
A  valued  page 
Of  poesy. 
As  Grecian  bards 
Knew  how  to  praise 
The  kingly  woes 
Of  darker  days, 

And  Tantalus,  soaring  where  the  mist  is  over 
blown, 
Meets  on  his  hard-won  throne  a  Juno  of  his  own. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  91 


LETTER 

Monday  afternoon,  26th  May.          xxxiv 
Mem  Liebster, 

I  will  use  the  word  again  and  correct  my 
mistake ;  and  yet  was  not  that  mistake  an  instinct, 
seeking  the  woman  in  you,  when  myself  was  in 
the  melting  mood?  I  have  come  in,  while  the  sun 
still  shines  and  the  warm  airs  blow,  pleasing  my 
self  to  give  up  to  you  a  part  of  the  first  beautiful 
afternoon  we  have  had  for  long,  since  you,  prob 
ably,  are  not  enjoying  it,  neither  will  I  this  day 
any  longer. 

You  say,  the  sadness  has  been  on  you  for 
some  time.  So  has  it  upon  me,  and  Nature  has 
reflected  our  feelings,  instead  of,  like  a  good 
mother,  displaying  sweet  love  to  win  us  from 
them;  it  has  been  either  too  damp,  or  cold  to  a 
degree  which  to  my  frame  is  absolutely  cruel, 
but  now  the  mild  winds  have  come  again !  Pray 
heaven  they  may  continue,  and  we  both  may 
have  swreeter,  brighter  hours  and  moods.  Yet 
this  is  sweet  to  me,  that  you  come  to  my  heart  to 
soothe  away  your  sadness ;  it  would  be  to  me  the 
dearest  office.  I  have  felt  so  often,  that  I  could 
find  comfort  in  you  and  wished  to  fly  thither  like 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXXIV 


a  bird,  and  I  would  have  you  come  to  me  like 
the  sick  lion  and  let  me  see  if  I  cannot  take  out 
the  thorn — and  if  I  cannot,  let  me  at  least  soothe 
to  rest  for  a  while. 

You  bid  me,  on  beautiful  evenings,  if  I  sat 
alone  in  our  bower,  call  you  and  you  would  pres 
ently  be  there.  If  it  should  indeed  be  sad  on  the 
wide  waters,  will  you  not,  on  your  side,  call  me? 
And  I  will  hasten  there,  wherever  I  be  or  howso 
ever  engaged. 

Yes !  dearest,  the  sadness  will  crystallize  more 
and  more  the  burning  coal,  or  what  was  burning, 
to  diamond,  and  what  was  the  heat  of  life  shall 
be  turned  to  permanent  light. 

This  was  what  I  forgot  to  say  to  you,  that 
the  Greek  thought  about  Hecate  and  Diana 
seemed  to  me  the  same  that  had  risen  in  your 
mind  about  the  volcanic  nature  of  the  moon  and 
her  pure  white  light.  White !  We  will  be  wor 
thy  to  wear  white.  "  La  dame  blanche  nous  re- 
garde;  "  we  will  not  act  lightly  or  faithlessly. 
I  like  much  your  way  of  writing  to  me  on  the 
music ;  it  binds  me  with  the  past,  besides  seeming 
so  appropriate  now.  I  was  also  much  pleased  to 
hear  you  speak  of  looking  for  the  moss-rose  again 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  93 

— that  is  the  most  modest  and  yet  most  full  of  all      LETTER 
the  roses — may  it  bloom  again  for  you ! 

I  do  not  wish  the  past  eclipsed  or  forgotten, 
but  I  do  long  to  see  you  entirely  consoled,  and 
that  the  deep  wound  should  seem  to  be  a  mine 
which  opened  such  precious  treasures  as  to  make 
the  violence  with  which  it  was  done  forgotten. 
Yet  I  prize  you  more,  that  this  may  not  easily 
be  done.  You  have  asked  me  not  to  cross  my 
letters,  so  I  will  not  now  write  any  more.  Shall 
I  not  see  you  to-morrow,  if  it  is  still  lovely?  And 
come  so  as  to  have  some  sunshine  with  me,  as  well 
as  evening  dusk. 

The  baby  has  just  brought  me  two  sweet 
roses.  I  wish  I  could  send  you  one  fresh. 


XXXV 


Evening  of  30th  May,  181^5.          LETTER 

I  was  disappointed,  dear  friend,  to  receive  no 
token  from  you  this  morning,  for  it  had  seemed, 
as  if  you,  like  myself,  would  not  be  happy  till 
our  minds  were  again  tuned  to  acknowledged  har 
mony.  Perhaps  you  think  I  did  not  myself  do 
what  I  ought  last  night  to  produce  this  result. 
Indeed  I  wished  to  do  so.  Long  before  you  went 


94  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  I  felt  that  the  tone,  which  had  for  a  moment  re 
pelled  me,  was  caused  by  the  mood  of  the  hour, 
the  trials  of  the  day,  and — above  all,  by  the  pres 
ence  of  a  third  person.  Had  we  been  alone,  I 
should  have  dropped  a  few  tears,  and  then  the 
sun  would  have  shone  again  and  have  lighted 
to  the  higher  ground,  far  more  natural  to  us. 
But  as  it  was,  I  could  not  act  as  I  felt,  and  the 
warm  tide  of  sympathy,  with  which  I  had  begun 
the  evening,  was  turned  back  upon  me  and  seemed 
to  oppress  my  powers  of  speech  and  motion.  Yet 
it  was  very  sad  to  me  to  have  you  go  forth  from 
the  place,  whither  you  came  in  hope  and  trust, 
into  the  dark  night  and  howling  wind.  So  far 
as  the  fault  of  this  was  mine,  forgive  me  dear 
friend.  I  feel  as  if  such  difficulties  would  not 
occur  after  longer  acquaintance  had  tempered 
us  to  one  another,  and  made  that  faith,  which  is 
already  so  deep,  pervade  the  character  more 
thoroughly.  But  perhaps  it  might  not  be  so; 
perhaps  I  am,  as  you  say,  too  sensitive,  and,  in 
that  case,  it  is  well  we  are  to  separate  now,  for 
we  are  already  too  near  to  be  easy  or  well,  if  the 
unison  be  broken. 

You  reproached  me  for  not  stating  with  dis- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  95 

tinctness  the  difference  betwixt  us  last  night.  I  LETTER 
did  not  feel  able  to  do  so  then,  but  will  try  now. 
The  view  you  stated  had  undoubtedly  a  founda 
tion  of  nobleness,  of  manly  honour  and  inde 
pendence.  It  would  well  become  a  relation,  which 
began  from  without,  where  the  parties  were  to 
become  acquainted  by  gradual  test  and  trial. 
But  you  have  proposed  to  me  to  become  related 
from  within.  You  have  claimed  me  on  the  score 
of  spiritual  affinity  and  I  have  yielded  to  this 
claim.  You  have  claimed  to  read  my  thoughts, 
to  count  the  pulses  of  my  being,  often  to  move 
them  by  your  heart  or  will.  You  have  ap 
proached  me  personally  nearer  than  any  other 
person,  and  have  said  to  me  words  most  unusual 
and  close,  to  which  I  have  willingly  listened. 

After  this,  could  there  remain  doubts  that  we 
should  sympathize  with  the  griefs  of  one  an 
other  ;  would  it  indeed  be  possible  to  conceal  them 
if  there  is  that  unity  you  have  supposed?  If 
there  is  that  faith  you  have  demanded  could  we 
wish  it?  I  felt  that  you  went  back  from  ground 
to  which  you  had  led.  I  also  felt  that  it  was 
not  well  to  talk  of  there  being  only  one  perfect 
relation,  in  these  parting  hours,  when  I  naturally 


96 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXXV 


wish  to  do  all  I  can  for  you.  I  want  to  cast  soft 
light  over  these  hours ;  why  say  to  your  moon, 
that  there  might  be  a  better  light  ?  She  admits  it, 
but  when  told  that  hers  is  of  no  use  even  at 
present,  what  can  she  do  but  veil  in  cloud  the 
pallid  beams? 

Yet  I  speak  of  this  with  reluctance,  for  again 
I  say,  it  was  the  mood  of  the  hour  and  not  your 
deepest  self,  I  believe.  You  would  really  wish  to 
trust  me  just  as  I  wish  to  trust  you,  and  do  in 
fact  hold  me  as  dear  as  at  any  hour  you  ever 
thought  you  did.  Your  mind  will  not  repent 
but  revert  with  joy  to  what  has  been  sweet  and 
generous  in  our  intercourse,  to  the  confidence  you 
have  put  in  me  as  to  the  ills  that  beset,  the 
thoughts  that  engaged  you,  to  the  hidden  aspira 
tions  of  your  soul.  Nor  will  the  flowers  we  have 
been  enabled  to  gather  from  the  moment  be  for 
gotten.  If  not  perfect,  they  were  lovely  and  in 
nocent  ;  nor  must  the  violet  be  cast  aside,  because 
she  is  not  a  rose. 

This  is  probably  my  last  letter,  and  I  have 
written  it  with  the  inclosed  pen,  which  I  wish  to 
give  you,  and  hope  it  will  pen  down  some  fine 
thoughts  and  passages  of  life  during  your  jour- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  97 

neyings.  It  also  contains  a  pencil.  I  send  it  LETTER 
to-day,  thinking  you  will  have  your  initials  put 
upon  it,  that  you  may  be  the  less  likely  to  lose 
my  parting  gift.  A  small  copy  of  Shelley's 
poems  I  wish  also  to  make  your  companion,  but 
keep  that  till  I  give  it  into  your  hand  and  point 
out  some  passages. 

I  feel,  as  you  may  see,  rather  subdued  to 
night,  having  been  unwell  all  day.  But  it  seems 
as  if  to-morrow  would  be  better.  With  you,  at 
any  rate,  may  it  be  so ;  with  you  be  energy  and 
light  and  peace  and  love! 

You,  in  your  turn,  have  patience  writh  the 
Psyche,  and  draw  the  best  music  you  can  from 
the  Lyre. 

Reading  over  my  letter  it  seems  too  restrained. 
Believe  that  my  whole  soul  utters  God  bless  you, 
and  feels  that  your  whole  soul  returns  the  same. 
May  we  meet  as  we  feel! 


Saturday  morning.          LETTER 

XXXVI 

I  have  slept  sweetly ;  the  sun  rises  bright,  yet 
still  I  feel  sick  at  heart.  May  I  find  just  the 
right  word  in  town  fromi  you,  or  rather  see  you. 


98 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXXVI 


LETTER 
XXXVII 


If  I  do  not,  it  will  seem  very  dark.  But  this  is 
your  last  day  in  the  busy  mart  amid  the  false 
hoods.  I  will  cheer  myself  beneath  that  sad  word 
— the  last — by  thinking  you  will  soon  be  on  your 
way  to  scenes  more  congenial  to  one  of  Gross- 
muth,  Sanftmuth  und  Wahrheit. 

"  Nature  never  did  deceive  the  heart  that  loved  her"- 

This  will  not,  I  believe,  be  my  last  letter  as 
I  wrote.  There  must  be  a  better,  fuller,  deeper 
tone. 

Thursday  evening,  5th  June,  1845. 

I  will  no  longer  delay  my  letter  of  regrets,  for 
one  such,  I  feel,  must  be  written  before  the  mind 
can  shake  off  its  weight  of  sadness,  and  turn  to 
brighter  things.  To  be  sure,  before  you  can 
receive  it,  these  hours  will  be  past  with  you,  yet 
come  back  with  me,  and  sit  down  here  by  my 
window,  and  share  the  feelings  of  this  hour. 

Ever  since  you  went,  it  has  been  the  most 
beautiful  weather,  such  as  we  never  had  at  all. 
I  do  not  think,  my  friend,  fate  smiled  upon  us ; 
how  much  cold  and  storm  there  was,  how  little 
warm  soft  air  when  we"  could  keep  still  out  of 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  99 


doors  in  peace,  how  much  interruption  through-  LETTER 
out  from  other  affairs  and  relations,  and  the 
cloud  of  separation  threatening  from  the  dis 
tance  from  the  very  first.  One  good  month,  con 
taining  unbroken  days  of  intercourse,  and  with 
no  thought  of  the  future,  would  have  been  worth, 
in  happiness,  these  five  that  we  have  known  each 
other  in  such  a  way.  But  then,  as  we  have  met 
in  common  life,  and  amid  all  its  cares  and  inter 
ruptions,  all  we  do  possess  from  one  another  is 
a  more  precious  possession,  for  it  is  tested  gold. 

Yet  I  do  wish  we  might  have  had  together 
these  glowing  hours  of  the  season's  pride ;  every 
thing  is  so  rich,  so  full  and  fragrant,  with  the 
warm  breeze  sighing  all  the  time  in  excess  of  hap 
piness.  The  roses  are  all  out  now,  and  the  en 
chanting  magnolia  too,  and  oriental  locust.  All 
the  fruit  is  turned  red  in  the  sunlight;  that  on 
my  tree,  to  which  you  so  sweetly  likened  your 
self,  glances  like  carnelians  and  corals  among  the 
leaves.  All  is  full  and  lustrous,  as  it  has  not  been 
and  will  not  be  again,  for  these  first  days  of  June 
are  the  bridal  days  of  the  year ;  but  through  all 
breathes  to  me  a  tone  of  sorrow,  over  all  droops  a 
veil.  For  I  have  lost  my  dear  companion,  the  first 


ioo  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  I  ever  had  who  could  feel  every  little  shade  of  life 
and  beauty  as  exquisitely  as  myself,  whose 
strength  gladdened  and  whose  gentleness  soothed 
me,  and,  wanting  this  finishing  note,  Nature  her 
self  pleases  no  more.  It  will  not  be  so  long,  I 
trust,  but  it  is  so  now. 


Morning  of  the  6th. 

When  I  had  written  the  last  words,  I  could 
write  no  more ;  all  seemed  too  sad  and  heavy,  and 
I  went  to  take  counsel  of  my  pillow.  Here  I 
never  fail  to  find  comfort.  Night  seems  to  me  the 
gentlest  mother.  We  are  taught  in  our  childhood 
verses,  to  which  I  know  not  if  you  have  anything 
corresponding  in  German: 

Receive  my  body  pretty  bed, 
Dear  pillow,  thou  receive  my  head. 

And  this  feeling  of  trust  in  the  confidential,  gen 
tle  night,  that  she  will  drive  away  dusky  thoughts 
and  needless  cares,  and  bring  sweet  counsel  and 
hope  for  the  morrow,  deepens  in  me  year  by  year. 
It  pleased  me  much  when  you  told  of  your  father 
taking  the  flowers  to  bed  with  him ;  he  must  have 
had  the  same  feeling.  And  I  was  not  disap- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  101 

pointed,  but  awoke  brightly  this  morning.  But  LETTER 
it  is  daily  a  sadness  to  me,  again  to  go  to  the  town 
and  know  I  shall  not  find  the  little  messenger 
with  your  letter.  Out  here  I  want  you  to  enjoy 
the  beauty  of  the  solitude,  in  the  city  I  feel  alone 
among  the  multitude  of  men,  because  you  are 
gone.  Strange  that  there  should  be  just  one 
with  whom  I  could  hold  deep  sympathy,  and  just 
that  one  of  all  the  thousands  must  go  as  I  came. 
Ah  well!  I  will  fret  as  little  as  I  can,  but  this 
sighing  is  of  some  use  just  to  exhale  one's  sorrow. 
The  day  you  went,  I  was  interrupted  by  visits 
all  the  time.  At  night  I  had  promised  to  accom 
pany  Mrs.  Child  and  Mr.  Benson  to  the  Park 
theatre.  There  an  actress,  once  beautiful  and 
celebrated,  whom  Mrs.  Child  had  raised  from  the 
most  degrading  fall,  was  to  reappear  before  a 
New  York  audience.  Mrs.  Child,  after  attending 
her  as  a  sister  till  she  learned  to  love  her  as  one, 
had  secured  her  engagements  in  the  other  cities, 
and  from  the  gutter  (as  one  may  say)  she  had 
come  into  the  enjoyment  of  an  honourable  inde 
pendence  and  respectable  relations.  But  she  had 
never  revisited  New  York,  which  was  the  scene  of 
her  former  degradation,  till  now,  and  was  very 


102  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      nervous  in  the  fear  of  being  hissed.     Mrs.  Child 

XXXVII 

had  engaged  me  and  other  friends  to  be  present, 
to  sustain  her  by  our  sympathy.  But  we  were 
there  only  to  heighten  her  disgrace;  the  poor 
woman,  unable  to  sustain  her  anxiety,  took  some 
stimulant,  and  it  set  her  quite  beside  herself.  It 
was  the  saddest  sight,  to  see  her  robed  in  satin 
and  crowned  with  roses,  ruining  writh  every  word 
all  her  hopes  of  future  ease  or  peace,  till  no  re 
source  seemed  left  her  but  suicide  (for  she  is 
unfit  for  anything  but  her  profession  to  which 
she  was  educated)  and  dealing  such  blows  on 
hearts  which  had  shown  her  real  disinterested 
love.  Although  I  had  felt  averse  to  going,  be 
cause  it  was  the  day  of  your  parting,  and  it 
would  have  been  best  to  be  alone  and  still,  I  be 
came  painfully  interested.  But  in  the  very  midst 
my  heart  beat  suddenly ;  your  image  rose  before 
me.  I  could  think  of  nothing  else  for  a  long 
time ;  you  must,  I  think,  have  called  me  that  eve 
ning,  as  you  looked  out  on  the  blue  waters.  Aft 
erward,  as  I  witnessed  Mrs.  Child's  trouble,  I 
thought  of  you,  and  that  your  labour  of  love,  to 
which  you  have  sacrificed  so  much,  and  me  and 
this  summer  among  others,  was  at  least  likely  to 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  103 

end  well.     That  is  a  rare  blessing  in  this  tangled      LETTER 
world,  to  bring  a  good  to  fulfilment,  even  by 
great  sacrifices.    Write  me  all  you  can  about  this, 
for  I  feel  deeply  interested. 

After  all  I  forgot  to  say  to  you,  what  I  meant 
about  Mrs.  Child's  marriage,  and  it  comes 
a  propos  to  this  event.  It  was  this,  that  with 
great  affectionateness  and  love  of  disinterested 
action,  she  had  not  the  surest  instincts  as  to 
selecting  objects  or  occasions,  so  that  much  which 
she  has  done  has  been  of  no  good,  except  to  her 
own  heart.  I  know  not,  however,  that  in  either 
of  these  cases  she  had  much  choice ;  she  married 
very  young,  before  she  knew  much  of  herself, 
and  in  the  case  of  the  actress  she  could  not  choose 
but  do  all  she  could  for  one,  whom  none  else  would 
help,  and  so  she  did  it  nobly,  with  the  whole 
heart ! 

Since  you  went,  I  have  been  looking  over 
"  The  Crescent  and  the  Cross  "  a  book  of  East 
ern  travels.  There  are  in  the  Appendix  "  Hints 
to  travellers  in  the  East  " — you  may  possibly 
not  know  all  he  mentions.  Mr.-Delf  will  easily 
get  you  the  book,  and  it  is  worth  your  looking  at. 

Mrs.  Greeley  thinks  a  great  deal  about  you ; 


io4  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  she  was  left  with  a  perfectly  sweet  feeling,  in 
which  I  rejoice.  She  has  been  in  these  days  very 
tranquil. 

I  take  Josey  out  with  me.  He  is  very  gay, 
but  does  not  mind  me  well.  I  cannot  get  him  to 
go  into  the  water  at  all ;  last  night  I  had  to  ask 
some  boys  to  throw  him  in.  I  shall  not  cross  my 
letters  much,  though  you  did  ask  it,  because  I 
know,  you  will  enjoy  reading  them  more  if  I  do 
not.  I  have  arranged  all  yours  in  company  with 
the  white  veil  and  the  memorandum-book  and 
some  dead  flowers  that  once  bloomed  sweetly  in 
hours  of  sweet  life,  but  have  not  had  courage  to 
read  them  yet.  To  our  Father's  care  commend 
ing  you,  lebewohl. 

Please  mention  the  receipt  of  each  of  my  let 
ters,  that  I  may  be  sure  none  of  them  are  lost. 


LETTER  New  York,  12th  June,  1845. 

XXXVIII 

After  these  three  days  of  intense  heat  we 
usually  have  in  June  comes  one  shadowy,  sigh 
ing,  cool,  which  seems  very  suitable  for  writing 
to  you.  You  will  not  find  too  many  letters  in 
London,  if  you  feel  like  me.  I  thought,  when 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  105 

you  went,  letters  would  be  nothing,  after  the  LETTER 
fulness  of  living  intercourse,  but  already  I  begin 
to  want  them  very  much  and  be  'disconsolate  to 
think  I  can  receive  none  for  near  a  month  yet. 
I  hope  you  will  have  written  on  the  voyage.  But 
we  are  on  unequal  terms  in  this ;  all  around  you 
is  new,  while  every  object  here  is  associated  with 
you,  and  the  more  lovely  the  scene,  the  stronger 
my  regret  that  you  are  not  beside  me.  Into 
the  wood,  it  seems  as  if  I  could  no  more  go 
at  all.  Yet  you  seem  to  be  much  with  me,  espe 
cially  now  the  moonlight  evenings  have  again 
begun.  Last  evening  I  had  no  lamp  lit  after  the 
sunset  and  lay  looking  at  the  moon  stealing 
through  the  exquisite  curtain  of  branches  which 
now  overhangs  all  my  windows.  You  seemed 
entirely  with  me,  and  I  was  in  a  sort  of  trance  as 
on  evenings  when  you  used  to  sing  to  me.  At 
these  times  heaven  and  earth  seemed  mingled  as 
in  twilight.  But  when  I  was  roused,  I  did  not 
feel  so  happy,  as  after  these  evenings.  I  have 
really  suffered  in  my  health  as  I  feared.  It  is  no 
imagination  my  being  much  less  strong,  and  my 
head  has  ached  constantly,  but  to-day  I  begin  to 
hope  to  be  better  again.  I  try  to  picture  you, 


io6 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXXVIII 


where  you  are,  and  enter  into  your  new  hopes  and 
plans,  but  somehow  I  cannot,  you  seem  still  to  be 
here.  Almost  I  hear  your  voice.  But  after  your 
letter  comes,  perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  imagine 
your  new  life  and  wean  my  thoughts  from  all 
this. 

Last  Sunday  I  passed  at  Staten  Island.  Oh 
it  was  most  lovely,  the  long  drives  in  the  wooded 
lanes  and  still  breezy  spots  on  the  hills.  It  is  a 
pity  we  could  never  go  there.  You  forgot  to 
tell  me  which  was  the  drive  you  were  fond  of 
there;  mention,  when  you  write,  its  name,  as  I 
shall  go  there  on  a  visit,  by-and-bye.  There  a 
beautiful  moss-rosebud  was  given  me !  All  the 
evening,  riding  home  and  in  the  boat,  though 
people  were  talking  to  me  and  I  answering  me 
chanically,  I  was  really  conversing  with  you. 

But  this  is  a  dull  song  to  send  so  far.  I  have 
been  thinking  you  wanted  me  to  write  of  the 
people  and  things  that  interest  you  here  and 
how  shall  I?  For  I  do  not  know  them  by  name. 
When  you  have  told  me  stories  you  have  not  told 
me  the  names  of  the  actors.  What  has  been  the 
main  subject  of  our  talk  has  been  personal  to 
ourselves  and  life  and  religion  in  general.  If 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  107 

there  are  special  subjects  you  want  to  hear  about,  LETTER 
will  you  tell  me?  And  write  whether  you  ever 
get  that  letter  from  Mr.  Polk.  If  you  do  not, 
let  me  try  and  get  it  and  send  to  your  address 
in  time  for  the  use  you  wish.  I  forgot  to  beg 
you  would  let  the  friend  you  commissioned  to 
receive  it  apprize  me  of  the  result,  and  now  I 
have  no  way  of  finding  out.  Do  not  fail  your 
self,  dear  friend,  to  tell  me.  I  know,  at  this 
distance  you  must  feel  so  affectionately,  you 
will  like  to  have  me  do  it  for  you.  Say,  is  it 
not  so? 

Many,  many  things  I  forgot  to  ask  and  say. 
Many  questions  now  occur  I  wish  I  had  asked 
you ;  many  words,  some  as  good  as  wine  or  honey, 
I  wish  I  had  said.  But  the  effect  of  our  inter 
course  was  to  make  me  so  passive:  sometimes  I 
wonder  it  was  so  interesting  to  you,  and  yet  I 
do  not,  for  I  seem  a  part  of  yourself.  We  were 
born,  surely,  under  the  same  constellation.  You 
found  much  of  yourself  in  me ;  though  veiled  by 
a  light  haze,  there  was  a  long  soft  echo  to  the 
deepest  tones.  Sometimes  you  doubted  whether 
I  fully  comprehended  you,  and  probably  I  did 
not ;  but  I  felt  able  to,  and  it  was  so  pleasant  to 


io8 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXXVIII 


be  led  on  and  supported  at  the  same  time.  When 
ever  there  was  dissonance  between  us,  it  ended  as 
being  so  superficial: 

It  seemed  but  tuning  of  the  breast 

To  make  the  music  better. 

I  never  had  these  feelings  at  all  toward  any 
other. 

And  now,  loved  friend,  I  find  myself  just  so 
passive,  waiting.  You  have  told  me  much  of  your 
history,  and  of  the  inward  call  of  your  heart. 
This  seems  to  be  the  crisis  in  your  life.  I  can 
not  at  all  look  forward  to  the  result.  Whether 
it  will  lead  you  inward  or  outward,  to  pilgrim- 
sorrows  or  a  small  harmonious  sphere  of  earthly 
uses  and  blessings,  I  long  to  know;  but  only 
from  yourself  can  I  know !  Impart  all  you  can 
to  the  chosen  sister.  I  never  did  like  to  ask  you 
questions  and  now  shall  still  less,  but  know  that 
I  always  want  to  know.  And  forgive,  should 
my  letters  be  somewhat  reserved.  I  am  afraid 
it  will  make  me  timid  that  my  letters  must  go  so 
far  and  be  so  long  of  getting  answered,  and 
through  many  hands  and  public  offices.  When 
they  only  went  by  the  little  foot-page  a  street 
or  two,  and  I  could  presently  add  with  lips  and 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


109 


eyes  all  that  was  wanting  to  explain  them,  I  had 
more  courage  than  I  can  have  this  way. 

You,  I  hope,  I  trust,  will  draw  to  you  in  the 
spirit  what  is  best  and  truest.  But  you  are  a 
man,  and  men  have  the  privilege  of  boldness. 
Put  your  soul  upon  the  paper  as  much  as  you 
can. 

Your  amiable  townsman,  Mr.  Benson,  as  if 
he  had  an  instinct  that  I  was  forsaken,  came  the 
day  you  sailed,  to  offer  me  all  kinds  of  kind 
offices.  Would  I  go  to  Long  Branch,  to  Rock- 
away;  he  knew  all  the  prettiest  places  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  would  take  me  in  his  gig; 
he  would  come  out  with  his  boat  and  take  me. 
He  has  been  out  in  the  boat  one  afternoon,  but 
I  was  sick  and  did  not  see  him.  Alas !  how  full 
the  world  is  of  persons  and  kind  ones,  too,  but 
how  few  with  whom  we  can  make  music.  But 
you  find  such  an  one  in  Mr.  Delf,  do  you  not? 
You  will  find  yourself  at  home  with  him  in 
London. 

Mrs.  Storms  is  coming  on  Saturday  with  a  set 
of  Texan  distingues  to  dine  here! 

I  am  to  break  off  for  a  time  with  Dr.  Leger. 
He  says,  while  my  head  aches  I  had  better  not 


LETTER 
XXXVIII 


no  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  come,  but  change  the  scene  and  air,  and  I  mean 
to  make  some  excursions. 

Matters  go  on  here  in  their  usual  disjointed 
fashion.  Mr.  Greeley  is,  I  believe,  really  going 
to  the  West  soon.  I  am  trying  to  devote  myself 
to  the  paper,  so  as  to  make  it  easy  for  him.  Little 
Arthur  grows  pretty  and  mischievous ;  his  mother 
is  in  better  spirits. 

I  may  not  be  able  to  write  by  the  Western  as 
there  is  much  to  be  done  these  next  coming  days, 
but  will  the  last  of  the  month. 


LETTER         NO.    I. 

XXXIX  New  York,  24th  June,  1845. 

This  beautiful  summer  morning  finds  me 
free  to  write  to  you,  dear  friend,  but  a  good 
hour  of  it  have  I  wasted,  lying  here,  thinking 
which  of  the  many  things  I  have  to  say,  shall  be 
selected  for  the  letter.  They  are  so  many  and 
yet  so  little.  None  seems  well  worth  writing  down 
by  itself,  though  I  should  say  them  all  to  you, 
if  you  were  here. 

If  you  were  here;  alas!  that  you  are  not. 
The  softness  and  splendour  of  everything  around 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


in 


me,  the  musical  sweep  of  these  breezes  still  sug 
gest  that  melancholy  if.  You  would  enjoy  them 
all  so  fully,  and  there  is  none  else,  who  could 
enjoy  them  so,  except  me,  and  now  having  had 
you  with  me,  I  cannot  be  happy  as  I  should  have 
been,  if  I  had  not  had  your  companionship  at 
all.  Now  I  must  miss  you ;  I  try  not,  but  cannot 
yet  help  it. 

I  do  not  now  go  out  in  the  afternoon  or  eve 
ning,  which  was  the  time  we  used  to  be  together, 
but  choose  the  morning  rather.  I  have  got  a  new 
place  on  the  rocks  which  is  delightful  in  the  morn 
ing,  much  more  so  than  the  one  where  we  used  to 
go;  it  is  more  shadowed  and  retired;  yet  the 
water  comes  up  to  my  feet.  But  you,  I  fear,  will 
never  see  it.  Everything  looks,  as  if  our  hosts 
would  not  remain  here  another  year,  and  as  if 
you,  having  lost  the  pleasure  of  being  here  this 
summer,  will  not  have  it  another,  even  if  you 
should  come  back.  I  will  not  tell  you  more  about 
them  at  present ;  but  the  same  griefs  keep  break 
ing  out  with  violence,  and  I  feel  as  if  no  peace 
or  security  could  be  expected  from  connection 
with  persons  so  circumstanced.  My  dear  mother 
is  staying  with  me  now;  her  sweetness  and  ele- 


LETTER 
XXXIX 


H2  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  gance  make  the  house  seem  a  very  different  place 
from  what  it  ever  did  before.  While  she  stays, 
I  feel  it's  almost  like  home,  but  she  will  leave  me 
early  in  July. 

I  have  had  many  visitors,  and  been  about  a 
great  deal ;  for  the  last  month  of  your  stay  I  used 
to  put  all  such  engagements  off  till  you  were 
gone,  and  they  have  accumulated.  I  take  some 
pleasure  in  them  for  mother;  to  her  they  are 
fresh  and  amusing.  I  take  pleasure,  too,  in  being 
the  means  that  some  persons,  weary  of  the  city, 
and  to  whom  it  is  a  delight  to  come  here,  can 
come. 

I  have  also  tried  to  revive  my  energies  about 
the  paper,  and  have  succeeded  in  doing  a  good 
deal.  Mr.  Greeley  told  me  that  he  could  not 
bear  to  urge  me,  but  unless  I  took  more  interest, 
he  should  not  feel  that  he  would  go  away ;  how 
ever  his  journey  seems  still  in  the  distant  per 
spective.  I  doubt  his  going  before  September. 

This  is  the  day  of  the  great  procession  to 
pay  funeral  honours  to  General  Jackson,  honours 
with  which  I  do  not  sympathize,  except  on  this 
score,  that  the  flaming  old  warrior  was  so  down 
right. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  113 


There  is  also  a  new  movement  against  the      LETTER 
Texas  annexation,  but  which  will  not,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  raise  a  very  full  wave. 

What  else  shall  I  tell  you  ?  Nothing  has  hap 
pened  that  interests  me,  except  that  the  Prison 
Association  has  taken  a  house  in  Twelfth  Street 
as  a  temporary  asylum  for  released  female  con 
victs  while  finding  them  employment.  I  have 
written  an  appeal  to  the  public,  to  procure  aid 
to  this  house,  which  has  interested  a  good  many. 
Last  Sunday  I  went  there,  found  ten  of  these 
women,  one  about  eighteen,  whose  face  you  would 
like.  Her  eyes  were  brown  and  very  soft,  around 
the  mouth  signs  of  great  sensibility.  She  seems 
to  be  in  consumption.  It  pained  me  to  see  the 
poor  things  so  bowed  down,  much  more  so  than 
they  seem  in  their  prisons ;  some  pious  ladies  were 
exhorting  them,  Bible  in  hand.  I  had  some  pleas 
ant  chat  with  them.  I  like  them  better  than  most 
women  I  meet,  because,  if  any  good  is  left,  it 
is  so  genuine,  and  they  make  no  false  preten 
sions,  nor  cling  to  shadows.  But  then,  in  talk 
ing  with  me,  they  do  not  show  the  contamina 
tion  and  painful  images  that  must  haunt  their 
lonely  hours.  They  are  pleased  and  cheered 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 


XXXIX  .  , 

side. 


and  show  only  the  womanly  and  self-respecting 


We  have  had  one  interesting  book,  Longfel 
low's  "  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Europe."  Look  over 
it  if  you  have  a  chance  any  time ;  it  contains  a 
good  course  in  these  charming  studies,  and  there 
are  some  things,  I  wish  I  could  read  with  you. 

Little  Arthur  grows  very  handsome  and  en 
gaging.  He  walks  firmly  and  lightly  now,  and 
his  figure  is  full  of  spirit.  He  likes  much  to  run 
into  my  room  and  have  me  show  him  pictures, 
and  understands  all  the  stories  I  tell  him  about 
them.  He  has  learned  from  my  lips  to  say  several 
words,  but  man-like,  he  will  only  say  them  at  his 
own  time,  and  not  when  I  ask  him.  The  first  one 
was  bird,  which  is  a  good  one  to  begin  with. 

Josey  is  thriving.  We  have  now  an  excellent 
man  who  will  take  good  care  of  him. 

Now,  dear  friend,  I  have  told  you  all  the  gos 
sip.  I  wish  I  could  do  better,  but  I  cannot.  In 
deed  there  are  soul-realities.  I  feel  a  perfect 
stream  of  life  beneath  all  this.  But  it  is  not  one 
of  the  times  when  I  can  fathom  it.  It  carries  me 
on,  I  know  not  whither,  but  only  feel  borne  by  the 
stream,  and  fanned  by  the  gales.  But  it  seems  as 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


117 


I  long  to  know  what  news  you  find  in  London, 
whether  you  will  be  permitted  to  pursue  your 
journey,  or  obliged  to  go  to  your  home.  There 
you  will  see  your  mother,  too,  and  what  a  holy 
hope  it  must  be,  after  such  a  long  separation.  I 
think  from  traits  you  have  told  me,  she  is  in  some 
respects  like  mine. 

I  want  to  copy  for  you  two  pieces  which 
have  fallen  under  my  eye  since  you  went ;  'tis  no 
matter  if  I  do  make  such  use  of  this  sheet,  as  it 
will  probably  find  you  in  London ;  indeed  you  are 
there  now,  it  may  be.  But  when  the  paper  has  to 
travel  after  you,  I  shall  be  more  avaricious  of  it. 
The  first  is  a  Volkslied  of  your  adopted  nation, 
and  deeply  expressive  of  that  deepest  sadness  in 
life,  that,  though  blessings  come,  they  so  often 
come  too  late. 

Mutter,  ach  Mutter,  es  hungert  mich, 
Gieb  mir  Brod,  sonst  sterbe  ich. 

Warte  nur,  mein  liebes  Kind, 
Morgen  wollen  wir  saen  geschwind. 

Und  als  das  Korn  gesaet  war 
Rief  das  Kind  noch  immerdar  : 

Mutter,  ach  Mutter,  es  hungert  mich, 
Gieb  mir  Brod,  sonst  sterbe  ich. 


LETTER 
XXXIX 


n8 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XXXIX 


Warte  nur,  mein  liebes  Kind, 
Morgen  wollen  wir  erndten  geschwind. 

Und  als  das  Korn  geerndtet  war, 
Rief  das  Kind  noch  immerdar  : 

Mutter,  ach  Mutter,  es  hungert  mich, 
Gieb  mir  Brod,  sonst  sterbe  ich. 

Warte  nur,  mein  liebes  Kind, 

Morgen  werden  wir  dreschen  geschwind. 

And  so  on  through  the  threshing,  the  grinding, 

the  baking,  till : 

Als  das  Brod  gebacken  war 

Da  lag  das  Kind  schon  auf  der  Bahr'. 

The  next  is  from  Shelley  and  was  not,  I  feel 
pretty  sure,  in  your  volume.  Even  if  you  do  not 
like  him  generally,  you  will  the  exquisite  pensive- 
ness  of  this : 

When  passion's  trance  is  overpast, 
If  tenderness  and  truth  could  last 
And  live,  while  all  wild  feelings  keep 
Some  mortal  slumber,  dark  and  deep, 
I  should  not  weep,  I  should  not  weep. 

After  the  slumber  of  the  year, 
The  woodland  violets  reappear, 
All  things  revive  in  field  and  grove 
And  sky  and  sea — but  two,  which  move 
As  for  all  others — life  and  love. 


XXXIX 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  1 1 9 

Perhaps  the  haze  of  his  style  and  want  of      LETTER 
clear  finish  in  the  expression  of  his  thoughts  will 
prevent  your  liking  him.     I  feel  in  copying  his 
verses,  that  he  must  be. harder  than  others  for  a 
foreigner  to  understand. 

Now  I  will  stop  for  this  day.  I  sent  no  letter 
by  the  Western  in  consequence  of  an  oversight, 
but  two  by  the  Boston  steamer,  which  I  hope 
reached  you  safely,  though  they  contained  little 
beyond  the  words  of  love  and  regret. 

Evening  of  the  25th. 

Your  companion,  Mr.  Miller,  has  just  been 
here.  I  thought  I  recognised  traits  of  which 
you  have  told  me,  but  he  had  with  him  a  talkative 
gentleman,  who  would  not  let  him  say  much.  I 
wanted  to  ask  if  he  knew  the  name  of  your  ship 
(I  never  asked  you  and  am  disturbed,  because 
you  would  have  been  willing  to  tell  me,  and  now, 
if  you  do  not  write  at  once,  I  shall  have  no  way 
of  knowing  that  you  arrive  safe)  but  I  think 
you  cannot  fail  to  write  at  once ;  you  will  feel, 
that  I  shall  be  anxious. 

A  poor,  pretty  young  girl,  a  cousin  of  Mrs. 
Grceley's,  who  is  staying  here,  has  just  heard  of 


I2O  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  the  death  of  a  brother  of  her  own  age  by  drown 
ing.  To  me  it  always  seems  so.  We  tremble 
constantly  on  the  verge  of  separations;  I  do 
not  feel  steeled  against  tfrem  yet,  so  that  I  can 
forbear  clinging  to  what  I  hold  dear. 

26th. 

Again  a  day  of  the  most  splendid  beauty.  I 
have  been  walking;  everything  is  so  full  of  fra 
grance,  all  objects  so  joyous.  I  feel  happy  too. 
I  have  just  finished  some  essays  for  the  paper; 
one  little  one  on  "  the  Irish  Character  "  I  wish 
you  were  here  to  read,  you  would  like  its  scope 
and  character.  Perhaps  you  can  give  me  some 
hints  from  what  you  observe  in  London  as  to 
matters,  that  will  interest  in  this  country  too. 
Now  I  am  going  away  for  two  or  three  days, 
and  expect  to  have  no  further  chance  to  write, 
before  it  is  time  to  send  by  the  steamer. 

You  cannot  think  how  touching  it  is  to 
me  to  see  the  fruit  ripened  which  was  in  flower 
when  you  were  here.  Now  the  blackberries  are 
ripe,  whose  tender  white  flower-buds  you  used 
to  gather  for  me.  May  all  your  hopes  bear 
fruit  as  well! 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  121 

Adieu ;  a  month  is  passed ;  in  it  I  have  written      LETTER 
you  four  letters — this  one  is  the  continuation  of 
another.    They  are  more  long  than  good,  but  you 
will  take  them  kindly  from  your  friend,  who  com 
mends  you  ever 

A  Dieu. 


'New  York,  %£d  July,  1845.         LETTER 

XL 

DEAR  FRIEND, 

With  pleasure  inexpressible,  I  have  at  last 
received  your  letters.  At  last!  I  hope  there 
may  not  be  cause  for  so  long  an  interval  of 
silence  again.  And  yet  it  cannot  again  be  so 
hard  to  bear.  Seven  weeks  was  so  cruelly  long 
after  the  habit  of  almost  daily  intercourse  had 
been  formed.  It  was  an  inevitable  pain  and  so 
I  have  tried  to  bear  it  well,  but  all  this  month, 
since  I  began  to  look  forward  to  hearing,  it  has 
been  very  hard. 

This  morning  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Bancroft,  but 
hardly  expect  to  get  an  answer  so  as  to  let  you 
know  by  the  1st,  for  I  do  not  know  that  he  is  in 
Washington;  he  has  lately  been  absent.  I  did 
not  think  before  of  the  probability  of  being  re- 


122  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  fused,  as  I  never  was  any  trifling  favour  by  Mr. 
Bancroft.  But  it  may  be,  that  "  honours  will 
change  manners  "  as  the  proverb  threatens,  the 
rather  as  I  can  be  of  no  use  to  him,  am  connected 
with  a  paper  of  the  hostile  party  and  in  which, 
unfortunately,  was  published  a  ludicrous  anec 
dote  about  him  three  or  four  days  since,  and  one 
which,  if  he  chances  to  see  it,  will  make  him  very 
angry.  But,  if  he  refuses,  it  will  affect  me  no 
other  way  than  with  regret  because  you  cannot 
have  what  might  be  useful  to  you.  I  have  been 
a  frequent  guest  at  Mr.  Bancroft's  house,  and 
treated  by  him  with  a  marked  courtesy  that  gives 
me  a  right  to  feel  I  do  not  intrude  in  making  the 
application.  This  being  the  case,  refusal  will 
not  mortify  me,  though  it  would  prevent  my  ever 
asking  him  for  any  other  favour.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  should  have  no  right  to  resent  a  refusal. 
He  owes  me  nothing ;  all  the  favours  hitherto 
have  been  from  him  to  me;  if  he  does  not  see 
fit  to  add  this  to  the  list,  it  will  not,  as  I  said 
before,  affect  me  anyhow,  except  that  I  have  it 
not  to  send  to  you.  So,  however  it  ends,  have  no 
trouble  on  my  account.  If  I  write  nothing  fur 
ther  by  this  steamer,  leave  orders  to  have  the 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


123 


letter  sent  after  you,  in  case  I  get  it  to  send  by 
the  15th. 

I  mentioned  last  winter  another  friend  of  in 
fluence  in  the  party,  but  as  he  has  not  taken 
office,  and  I  know  not  where  he  is,  shall  not  at 
tempt  to  do  anything  by  his  means,  as  it  would 
be  too  long  a  process  to  be  of  use.  I  wish  I  had 
acted  before,  but  supposed  the  Sun  editors  far 
more  likely  than  I  to  get  it  done  to  advantage, 
and  supposed  it,  besides,  too  trifling  a  favour  to 
be  refused. 

Most  sweetly  breathes  your  spirit  to  me 
through  your  words ;  it  is  indeed  what  I  felt, 
and  felt  as  if  you  were  feeling,  but  it  is  a  great 
satisfaction  to  see  it  written  down,  to  hold  it  in 
my  hand  and  to  my  heart.  The  moss-roses  bear 
transplanting  well,  they  wrill  grow  in  either  cli 
mate.  It  is  true,  as  you  say,  that  the  precious 
certainty  of  spiritual  connection,  which  will  bear 
the  test  of  absence  and  various  influences,  is 
worth  great  sacrifices,  but — our  sacrifice  was  pre 
mature.  We  needed  the  suns  and  moons  of  this 
summer  to  ripen  our  knowledge  of  one  another 
(to  say  nothing  of  the  loss  of  happiness).  I 
always  felt  and  feel,  that  at  the  end  of  a  few 


LETTER 
XL 


124 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XL 


months  more,  separation  would  have  been  more 
natural,  and  that,  though  circumstances  on  your 
side  seemed  to  command  it  now,  yet  their  doing 
so  seemed  sad  and  of  evil  omen. 

Yet  oh !  May  we  at  least  ever  keep  pure  and 
sweet  the  joys  that  have  been  given,  and  the 
tender  and  elevated  strain  of  your  letters  makes 
me  trust  we  may.  Me  too,  it  moved  tearfully, 
to  read  what  you  say  of  lying  down  to  die,  that 
you  might  not  even  by  your  presence  abet  false 
hoods. 

When  this  heart-sickness  comes  again,  may  I 
not  draw  nigh,  and  lay  my  arms  about  your  neck 
and  my  cheek  to  yours,  and  will  you  not  then 
feel  that,  in  a  world  where  such  true  affection 
still  finds  a  home,  there  must  be  salt  enough  to 
keep  the  whole  from  corruption,  and  that  we 
must  live  to  be  as  good  as  we  can,  a  comfort 
and  earnest  of  better  things  to  one  another 
and  to  other  vexed  and  clouded  spirits,  born 
for  love  and  light,  still  walking  and  working 
in  the  dark? 

You  are,  indeed,  continually  present  with  me. 
When  other  voices  are  silent,  yours  is  soon  heard. 
I  only  need  to  be  alone  and  undisturbed.  But 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


125 


sometimes  the  sense  of  communion  is  more  deep 
and  sweet,  and  things  are  told  that  I  much  ad 
mire,  indeed  hardly  understand  as  yet.  I  do  not 
know  whether  it  is  that  seeds  planted  in  the 
spring-time  are  growing  up  now  in  the  green 
solitude  of  summer,  or  whether  there  is  a  rush 
of  our  souls  to  meet  at  the  same  moment  in  time, 
as  used  to  be  the  case,  and  I  want  you  to  date 
the  times  when  this  happens  with  you,  and  I  will 
do  the  same,  that  we  may  know. 

I  am  very  sorry  that  I  did  not  write  the  16th, 
but  you,  I  thought,  told  me  to  write  up  to 
the  1st  of  July  and  not  again  till  I  heard  from 
you.  You  will  be  disappointed,  I  know,  since 
you  had  forgotten  this.  But  I  shall  be  faithful, 
when  I  understand  about  writing.  The  only 
difficulty  is  the  same  as  yours — where  to  begin. 
I  might  as  well  write  all  day  long  as  any  one 
hour.  Of  outward  events  little  has  occurred  of 
late ;  in  the  city  the  great  fire  of  which  you  wrill 
read  in  the  papers,  by  wrhich  you,  I  trust,  are  no 
loser,  for  even  where  there  is  so  much  suffering, 
selfishness  impels  to  think  first  and  most  of  dear 
friends. 

The  still  smoking  ruins  looked  really  sublime 


LETTER 
XL 


126 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XL 


last  night  by  the  setting  sun.  Many  chimneys 
and  balconies  are  left  standing  in  picturesque 
blackness  upon  this  large  area.  A  gazing  crowd 
animated  the  foreground ;  it  gave  some  notion  of 
the  miseries  of  war. 

A  man  lost  his  young  wife,  to  whom  he  had 
been  married  only  four  months,  in  the  fire ;  he  is 
seeking  her  remains,  half  distracted,  among  the 
ruins.  A  girl  was  found  in  convulsions  in  the 
Fulton  ferry-house.  Having  been  burned  out 
and  lost  everything,  she  wandered  a  while  home 
less  and  then  took  laudanum  to  kill  herself.  A 
corpse  has  been  disinterred  grasping  in  one  hand 
charred  ledgers,  in  the  other  some  gold,  a  clerk 
they  suppose,  the  Chevalier  of  the  counting- 
room,  vowed  to  Duty  to  the  last  moment  of 
his  life. 

Our  friend,  Mrs.  Greeley,  is  more  dejected 
than  ever;  indeed  she  has  much  cause,  but  I 
cannot  now  speak  of  this.  I  gave  her  all  from 
your  letters  I  could,  and  all  your  messages, 
except  what  related  to  going  abroad.  It  only 
unsettles  her  to  think  of  that,  and  I  fear  Mr. 
Greeley  would  never  consent,  now  they  have 
the  child. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  127 


LETTER 
XL 


The  letter  from  Mr.  Bancroft  is  received  and 
accompanies  this  in  an  envelope  from  me.  I 
hope,  it  will  not  fail  to  reach  you;  if  it  should 
by  any  chance,  Fate  must  have  determined  to 
leave  you  entirely  to  the  impression  made  by 
your  personal  presence. 

Sunday,  27th. 

I  am  anxious  you  should  take  pencil-notes  as 
you  used  to  sometimes,  of  things  as  they  rise  in 
your  mind  and  then  write  them  out  for  me.  I 
want  the  little  thoughts  and  little  feelings  as  well 
as  the  great  results.  Now,  dear  Friend,  fare 
well!  May  we  be  tender  and  true,  it  was  the 
motto  of  the  noblest  house  of  a  noble  race,  and 
one  that  would  do  honour  to  any  one  and  any 
relation.  Farewell. 

I  wrill  now  begin  upon  another  letter  rather 
than  spoil  this  by  crossing. 

New  York,  22d,  1845.  LETTER 

XLI 

Our  friend  would  wish  to  be  perfectly  gen 
erous  and  affectionate  towards  me ;  generally 


128  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  she  is,  but  at  times  she  compares  herself  with 
me.  She  then  seems  to  think  me  an  unduly 
privileged  person,  forgets  or  does  not  see  the 
dark  side  of  my  lot,  of  which  once  she  thought 
with  so  much  tenderness,  as  if  it  would  be  the 
privilege  of  her  life  to  free  me  from  pain  and 
care.  She  wishes  then  to  make  me  feel  my 
faults,  and  told  me  the  other  day  (to  [quote] 
her  own  opinion)  that  you  thought,  I  could  not 
bear  being  told  of  them.  Do  you  think  so?  I 
do  not  wish  to  hear  about  them  constantly,  espe 
cially  from  those  whom  I  think  younger  in 
mind  than  myself,  for  I  do  not  think  they  can 
apprehend  me  as  a  whole — enough  to  be  of  use 
to  me,  and  I  do  not  like  a  great  deal  of  that  sort 
of  intercourse,  for  I  think,  as  a  general  thing  we 
improve  most  by  being  loved  and  trusted  and  by 
loving  and  trusting.  But  I  think  too,  with  one 
whose  judgment  I  valued,  I  should  receive  fault 
finding  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  meant,  and 
if  it  gave  me  pain,  should  be  more  likely  to 
mend  than  many  who  take  it  more  easily.  I 
knew  you  thought  me  too  sensitive,  and  I  have 
thought  about  it,  and  admit  it  to  be  so;  now  if 
you  think  I  could  not  bear  fault-finding,  as  a 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  129 

seeker  for  truth  ought,  perhaps  that  is  true  also.  LETTER 
You  need  not,  however,  answer  upon  this  point, 
if  you  have  not  leisure  or  inclination  to  do  it  to 
your  mind ;  it  will  not  rest  upon  mine,  except  to 
make  me  examine  myself  more  strictly.  I  rather 
wished  at  the  time  it  had  not  been  told  me,  but 
you  know  I  promised  you  to  hear  only  yourself 
about  yourself,  which  promise  I  shall  not  find  it 
difficult  to  keep,  for  I  feel  that  we  are  so  much 
more  deeply  known  to  one  another  than  to  others, 
that  anything  you  would  say  or  do  would  always 
seem  entirely  different  to  me  from  yourself  to 
what  it  would,  coming  through  another.  I  also 
make  it  my  request  that  you  will  never  speak  to 
her  of  this.  Her  main  feeling  is  one  of  warm 
affection  for  both  of  us,  she  yielded  to  a  sudden 
impulse  in  telling  me  this.  She  is  sometimes 
satirical  on  the  deficiencies  in  my  care  of  Josey 
and  indeed  there  is  room,  for  I  do  not  know 
enough  about  such  things  to  take  the  best  care 
of  him.  He  grows,  however,  strong  and  hand 
some,  swims  nobly  and  is  very  fond  of  me,  with 
out  regard  to  my  faults  or  my  unwillingness  to 
hear  about  them,  and  I  believe  his  master  also 
will  be  indulgent.  \  confess  I  want  indulgence 

10 


13°  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  from  those  I  love,  but  it  seems  to  me  it  is 
not  that  I  want  blind  idolatry,  but  as  a  child 
never  finding  repose  on  the  bosom  of  love,  I 
seek  it  now,  childishly  perhaps.  God  knows  all 
about  it. 

One  trifle  let  me  add.  I  don't  know  that  any 
words  from  your  mouth  gave  me  more  pleasure, 
a  strange  kind  of  pleasure,  than  these  "  You 
must  be  a  fool,  little  girl."  It  seemed  so  whim 
sical  that  they  should  be  addressed  to  me,  who 
was  called  on  for  wisdom  and  dignity  long  before 
my  leading-strings  were  off,  and  so  pleasant  too. 
Indeed  thou  art  my  dear  brother  and  must  ever 
be  good  and  loving  as  to  a  little  sister. 

Dear  mother  left  me  more  than  a  fortnight 
since.  The  only  drawback  on  her  visit  was  that 
she  could  not  conceive  of  my  being  content  here. 
She  could  not  fully  see  how  far  the  outward 
beauty  of  nature  and  my  confidence  in  the  real 
goodness  and  honour,  which  both  my  hosts  have  at 
bottom,  outweigh  with  me  the  want  of  order,  com 
fort,  and,  far  more,  mental  harmony.  At  first 
she  could  not  forbear  trying  to  put  things  to 
rights.  At  last  she  found  upon  trial  what  I  saw 
from  the  first,  that  they  would  never  "  stay  put," 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  13 

and  contented  herself  with  the  enjoyment  of  the      LETTER 
place  and  of  being  with  me. 

The  4th  of  July  we  spent  on  the  rocks,  read 
ing;  it  was  a  soft,  cloudy,  dreamy  day,  I  felt 
very  happy  writh  this  sweet  mother.  You  would 
love  her,  for  she,  at  least,  is  all  gentleness,  and 
she  would  understand  your  noble  human  heart. 
She  is  much  taller  than  I  and  larger  and  prettier 
and  kinder.  While  she  wras  here  I  went  about 
with  her  a  good  deal,  but  since  have  been  abso 
lutely  still  and  secluded,  for  the  heat  has  been 
too  great  for  me  or  any  one  to  go  about,  steady 
intense  heat  for  a  fortnight,  such  as  has  not  been 
known  in  New  York  for  many  years.  The  nights 
however  have  been  enough  to  make  up  for  the 
sufferings  of  the  days,  so  warm  that  you  could 
be  out  all  night  and  with  floods  of  that  mellow 
moonlight  that  is  seen  only  in  such  warm  weather. 
If  She  came  to  you  laden  with  my  love  before, 
what  must  she  now,  when  the  whole  scene  was  but 
one  thought  of  love!  Earthly  sweetness  trans 
figured  in  celestial  light. 

One  night  when  I  was  out  bathing  at  the  foot 
of  the  tall  rock,  the  waters  rippling  up  so  gently, 
the  ships  gliding  full-sailed  and  dreamy-white 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLI 


over  a  silver  sea,  the  crags  above  me  with  their 
dewy  garlands  and  the  little  path  stealing  away 
in  shadow,  oh  it  was  almost  too  beautiful  to  bear 
and  live.  I  have  had  my  hammock  slung  on  the 
piazza;  I  lie  and  swing  there  with  the  baby  in 
the  daytime,  in  the  evening  alone;  while  the 
breezes  whisper  and  the  moon  glimmers  through 
the  stately  trees,  and  am  very  sorry  it  was  not  so 
while  you  were  here  that  I  might  have  heard  you 
sing  there  some  happy  evening;  it  is  just  like 
being  in  a  cradle.  The  baby  has  been  a  great 
pleasure  to  me  since  I  have  been  at  home  so  much, 
and  has  grown  very  fond  of  me ;  wrhen  I  propose 
taking  him  he  says  yes,  and  is  very  gay;  he  is 
an  arch  child  and  good  to  frolic  with,  but  also 
he  likes  to  be  talked  to  and  understands  the 
tones,  if  not  the  words.  I  carry  him  about  and 
talk  to  him  in  the  most  wonderful  wray ;  he  clings 
to  my  neck  and  says  little  assenting  sounds  to 
the  poetic  remarks,  and  looks  straight  in  my  eyes. 
The  look  in  a  child's  eyes  at  this  time  is  heavenly, 
so  much  dawning  intelligence,  yet  so  unsullied ; 
while  they  are  the  object  of  unbroken  love  from 
those  older  they  seem  as  if  tended  by  gods  and 
fragrant  with  their  thoughts;  when  they  begin 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


to  play  much  with  other  children  they  lose  it 
gradually.  My  dear  friend,  I  say  so  many  little, 
little  things,  it  will  never  be  done. 

It  gratifies  me  deeply  you  feel  so  to  "  Sum 
mer  on  the  Lakes  "  for  that  is  just  a  piece  out 
of  my  common  summer-life ;  it  seems  as  if  I 
might  write  just  such  a  volume  every  summer, 
only  one  lives  so  fast  there  is  no  time  to  write  it 
down.  I  wish  I  might  write  something  good 
before  you  come  back,  but  really  the  paper  when 
I  attend  to  it  as  much  as  Mr.  Greeley  wishes, 
takes  all  the  time  I  feel  disposed  to  read  or  write. 
He  is  now  quite  content  again.  I  write  often  and 
at  length.  Some  of  the  pieces  have  attracted  a 
good  deal  of  attention  and  reply,  especially 
pieces  on  Swedenborgianism,  which  I  should 
like  you  to  have  seen,  and  two  upon  the  Irish 
character;  but  the  merit  of  such  things  is  for 
the  day. 

Mr.  Greeley  still  intends  going  to  the  West, 
so  whatever  you  write  for  the  Tribune,  you  had 
better  inclose  to  me,  or  it  will  fall  under  the 
care  of  his  clerks  and  be  treated  accordingly ; 
indeed  you  had  better  always  inclose  it  to  me,  if 
you  wish  to  make  sure  of  my  seeing  it  before  it 


LETTER 
XLI 


134 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLI 


comes  out.     Now,  how  many,  many  things  besides 
I  have  to  say  but  must  stop  for  this  time. 

Evening. 

I  think  with  the  utmost  pathos  of  your  poor 
maiden  returning  to  her  parents.  Though  the 
faults  of  a  child  are  generally  traceable  to  the 
mismanagement  of  parents,  yet  it  must  be  so. 
Better  to  return  under  such  circumstances.  I 
hope  Heaven  will  teach  them  to  be  wise  and 
tender  to  her  and  that  you  may  have  every  rea 
son  to  look  back  with  happiness  on  your  work. 
But  she  must  suffer  greatly  to  part  from  you, 
you  who  have  been  a  friend  to  her  such  as  it  has 
been  given  few  mortals  to  find  once  in  this  world, 
and  surely  none  could  hope  to  find  twice.  May 
Heaven  forever  bless  you  for  it  !  And  she  must 
bid  you  farewell!  I  shall  always  regret  that  I 
did  not  in  some  way  see  her  so  as  to  have  in  my 
mind  her  image,  for  now  this  want  torments  me 
when  I  think  of  her. 


It  is  the  still,  sweet  Sunday,  just  two  months 
since    you    went.       How    many    things    have    I 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


135 


thought  of  since,  that  I  might  have  said  that 
night,  but  it  is  always  impossible  to  do  as  you 
wish  at  such  times.  As  to  Mrs.  Greeley,  let  me 
add,  these  clouds  are  slight,  the  effect  often  of 
undue  heat  from  other  causes  and  I  doubt  not 
will  always  yield  soon  to  her  great  affection  for 
both  of  us.  Perhaps  I  will  not  write  about  such 
any  more;  I  like  to  write  just  as  I  used  to  talk 
with  you  of  whatever  is  uppermost  in  my  mind 
at  the  moment,  but  when  I  do  not  have  a  chance 
to  explain  and  qualify  as  when  we  were  near,  it 
may  be  right  to  practise  reserve,  where  others 
are  concerned. 

Saturday,  July  26th. 

Mr.  Bancroft  attended  to  my  request  at  once 
and  accompanied  the  inclosed  with  a  most  cordial 
note  expressive  of  his  pleasure  in  doing  so.  As  I 
told  him  what  had  been  done  previously  and  that 
it  was  said  a  private  letter  would  be  sufficient, 
he  sends  such  an  one,  and  though  it  is  addressed 
only  to  persons  connected  with  the  navy,  I  sup 
pose  it  will  prove  sufficient,  as  such  consuls  or 
officers  will  give  you  other  letters  if  you  need 
them.  I  could,  no  doubt,  procure  good  letters 


LETTER 
XLI 


LETTER 
XLII 


136  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  to  the  Consul  at  Rome,  and  one  from  a  cousin 
of  his,  my  intimate  friend,  to  Mr.  Langdon,  a 
distinguished  merchant  at  Smyrna,  to  whom 
many  Americans  go,  if  you  need  anything  fur 
ther.  You  will  answer  fully  on  this  score, 
whether  this  is  enough  and  whether  you  want 
more,  will  you  not,  dear  friend? 

Every  sweet  will  have  its  sour,  and  the  same 
post  which  brought  me  a  bit  of  paper  that  may  be 
of  use  to  thee,  brought  also  the  news  that  my 
poor  Georgiana  had  lost  the  brother  whom  she 
adopted  and  brought  to  this  country.  The  poor 
boy  died  alone  among  strangers.  He  had  kept 
at  work  to  the  last  moment  he  was  able  to  sit  up, 
indeed  much  too  long,  yet  his  sickness,  funeral, 
etc.,  leaves  a  debt  to  his  sister  which  embittered 
his  last  thoughts.  She  says  "  I  cannot  sleep  at 
night  for  thinking  how  he  must  have  longed— 
oh  more  than  that — to  see  me;  of  his  working, 
when  so  miserable,  from  sense  of  necessity."  I 
try  to  drive  away  such  thoughts  and  believe  that 
he  is  now  in  good  society,  where  he  is  bound  by 
no  fetters  but  those  his  own  spirit  imposes ;  "  but 
how  shall  I  tell  mother !  I  could  wyish  to  lie  dowrn 
and  die  too."  Oh,  my  friend,  how  often  that 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


137 


wish  must  come  to  all  of  us,  yet  it  would  be  use 
less  ;  we  must  pay  our  ransom  out  of  our  own 
earnings  either  in  this  world  or  the  next,  and 
the  Beethovens  the  heaviest. 

I  have  been  thinking  of  you  to-day  more 
than  ever;  I  have  been  entirely  alone,  all  the 
others  gone  to  Coney  Island,  and  no  sound  ex 
cept  the  murmur  of  the  summer-wind  to  invade 
the  deep,  sweet  stillness.  All  day  it  was  sweet, 
yet  towards  nightfall  it  grew  oppressively  sad.  I 
longed  to  be  summoned  by  your  voice,  catch 
animation  from  your  eye.  Yet  to-day  my 
thoughts  have  been  concentrated  on  our  relation 
as  never  before.  It  seems  to  me  not  only  peculiar 
but  original.  I  have  never  had  one  at  all  like  it, 
and  I  do  not  read  things,  in  the  Poets  or  any 
where,  that  more  than  glance  at  it;  they  do  not 
touch  that  which  is  especially  its  life.  Your 
thoughts  are  growing  in  my  mind,  the  influence 
of  your  stronger  organization  has  at  times  almost 
transfused  mine,  and  has  effected  some  permanent 
changes  there;  there  have  been  moments  when 
our  minds  were  blended  in  one,  yet  what  I  mean 
is  the  inner  fact,  the  kernel,  of  whose  existence 
these  are  only  the  tokens.  It  has  never  made 


LETTER 
XLII 


138 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLII 


me  so  deeply  sensible  of  its  presence  as  to-day, 
beating  like  a  heart  within  me,  a  heart  that  seems 
strong  enough  to  cast  aside  this  weed  of  flesh 
and  clothe  itself  anew.  If  others  enjoy  the  same, 
they  nowhere  speak  of  it.  And  is  it  not  by 
living  such  relations  that  we  bring  a  new  re 
ligion,  establishing  nobler  freedom  for  all?  For 
that  which  takes  place  in  us,  must,  by  spiritual 
law,  widen  its  circles,  till  it  embraces  all.  But  I 
talk  to  thee  of  what  thou  knowest  better  than  I, 
yet  indeed  I  feel — when  known  to  me,  it  will  be 
angelic  knowledge.  Farewell,  Du  Bester,  take 
me  to  thyself  in  that  deep  sincerity  which  is 
pra}7er,  and  God's  will  be  done ! 

Sunday  evening. 

As  I  lie  thinking,  I  begin  to  be  troubled,  lest 
the  inclosed  should  not  suffice  for  what  you  want, 
as  one  from  the  President  or  Secretary  of  State 
would.  It  is,  of  course,  credentials  as  to  who  you 
are,  but  you  may  not  always  wish  to  make  use 
of  it,  when  you  want  such.  In  this  case,  let  me 
name  persons,  from  whom  I  could  get  letters  that 
might  supply  the  want — Mr.  Glidden,  not  known 
to  me,  but  much  indebted  to  some  of  my  friends. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


139 


Dr.  Howe,  well  known  to  me  and  to  Greece.  Mr. 
Edward  Everett,  who  will  soon  be  on  his  return 
and  who,  though  he  has  left  office,  might  have 
the  desirable  connections  abroad.  He  has  shown 
me  much  kindness  and  would,  I  doubt  not,  still 
do  so.  If  any  of  these  can  be  of  use,  name  it  to 
your  sister,  who  is  best  entitled  of  any  here,  to 
act  for  you,  since  you  say  you  love  her  best,  and 
she  is  most  anxious  you  should  have  the  full 
profit  of  your  travel  and  not  be  exposed  to  inter 
ruption  and  useless  annoyance. 

Even  if  you  wrote  to  me  that  you  wanted  any 
thing,  and  circumstances  should  then  have  so 
changed  that  I  could  not  with  perfect  delicacy 
and  propriety  apply,  I  would  not,  because  I 
know  you  would  not  in  such  case  be  willing  to 
have  me.  So  do  not  again  scruple  to  speak,  for 
I  do  not  know  the  case  clearly  enough  to  divine. 

A  letter  from  Mr.  Bancroft  seems  more  ap 
propriate  to  use  with  professional  or  literary 
objects  in  travel  than  one  either  from  the  Presi 
dent  or  Mr.  Buchanan.  I  left  it  at  his  own  dis 
cretion  what  to  do,  and  suppose  he  did  what  was 
easiest,  but  it  will,  I  think,  be  sufficient. 

I  am  sorry  that  I  have  scrawled  so  all  over 


LETTER 
XLII 


14°  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  the  thick  letter  which  accompanies  this.  I  fear 
it  will  hardly  be  legible  to  you  and  will  try  not 
to  do  so  any  more,  but  one  thing  came  to  hand 
thick  after  the  other,  till  I  had  regularly  covered 
almost  every  inch. 

I  have  shown  the  utmost  senselessness  in  wri 
ting  this  envelope ;  forgive  if  it  costs  you  pence 
additional  to  put  another.  I  forgot  what  I  was 
about  and  have  not  time  to  copy.  Imagine  you 
economized  enough  by  my  omission  to  wrrite  the 
15th  to  pay  for  the  additional  envelope.  I  never 
did  anything  so  clumsy  before.  I  draw  my  pen 
through  the  above,  for  how  silly  it  seems  to  jest 
at  such  a  distance ;  even  in  this  flat,  heartless 
way,  it  is  too  uncongenial. 

Next  week  I  hear  from  you,  and  shall  then 
know  whether  I  am  to  write  again.  Already  I 
begin  to  feel  like  it. 


LETTER  New  York,  12th  August,  1845. 

XLIII 

MY  VERY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

It  is  true  that  I  have  been  indulging  myself 
day  by  day  in  writing  to  you,  but  "  that  letter  " 
has  swollen  to  such  a  bulk  that  it  really  seems 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  141 

wrong  to  send  it,  when  it  may  have  to  travel  LETTER 
after  you  from  station  to  station  till  it  comes 
to  cost  its  weight  in  gold.  Yet  this  circum 
stance  seems  but  an  outward  obstacle  express 
ive  of  the  will  of  the  spirit,  that  it  will  rather 
be  trusted  to  communicate  in  full  between  us 
what  is  there  stammered  out  with  childish  pro 
lixity. 

I  will  not  however  destroy  the  letter,  perhaps 
on  some  future  occasion  I  may  send  or  show  it 
you. 

The  Cambria  brought  yours  with  wonder 
ful  speed,  full  four  days  before  I  hoped.  But 
now  I  fear,  I  must  wait  a  long  time,  to  pay 
for  this  favour  of  Fate.  The  Great  Britain 
brought  in  all  its  mighty  bulk  not  one  little  seed 
for  my  garden.  I  did  not  expect  it,  yet  was  dis 
appointed;  so  unreasonable  is  affection. 

The  letters  to  the  Tribune  appeared  on 
8th  August.  By  a  mistake  which  I  did  not  fore 
see,  they  mistook  your  J  for  an  A.  and  the  sig 
nature  stands  A.  N.  This  shall  be  amended  in 
future.  They  are  under  the  head  "  Wayside- 
Notes  Abroad."  I  have  kept  six  copies  for  you. 
They  did  not  need  copying,  and  needed  but  little 


142 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLIII 


retouching,  which  I  easily  gave  to  your  manu 
script. 

Pan  is  literally  the  All;  it  is  the  Universal 
Spirit  best  known  in  the  Solitudes  of  Nature.  As 
this  did  not  correspond  with  what  you  wished  to 
express  I  substituted  the  Oreads  and  Dryads. 
These  are  nymphs,  representing,  the  first,  the 
lights  and  shadows  that  play  upon  hills  and  open 
fields — the  second  the  secret  recesses  of  the  woods, 
the  trees  and  fountains.  There  is  no  god  who 
stands  both  for  free  nature  and  agriculture,  and 
those  nymphs  represent  the  aspect  of  a  cultivated 
country  interspersed  with  woods. 

These  first  letters  are  written  with  freedom 
and  sweetness,  the  facts  selected  are  of  a  leading 
character,  the  second  a  beautiful  poem.  Truth 
to  tell,  I  rather  grudged  it  to  the  Public.  Mrs. 
Greeley  was  charmed  with  the  letters.  Foster, 
one  of  our  editors,  asked  if  I  had  read  them  ! 
expressed  admiration  of  them  and  said,  the  image 
of  the  moon  passing  the  pillars  of  her  palace 
was  entirely  original  yet  reminded  him  of 
Shelley! 

I  hope  you  will  follow  it  up  by  letters  from 
London  and  Paris.  Dr.  Lardner  writes  us  quite 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  143 

good  business  accounts  of  matters  in  Paris,  but      LETTER 
different  things  would  strike  you.     I  have  been 
much  interested  by  the  letter  of  the  Carpenters 
and  the  homage  paid  to  the  mother  of  the  Car 
penters  by  them! 

My  loved  friend,  I  am  deeply  sorry  that  the 
affair  that  has  troubled  you  so  long  finds  not  a 
definite  and  peaceful  issue.  There  is  somewhat, 
also,  in  the  course  of  the  maiden  that  strikes  one 
painfully,  but,  perhaps,  imperfect  knowledge  of 
the  circumstances  makes  me  unjust.  Is  it  not 
possible  I  might  aid  you?  My  friend,  Mrs.  Far- 
rar,  is  English;  her  mother,  a  benevolent  old 
lady,  widely  acquainted  with  good  people,  lives 
in  London.  My  pupil,  Maria,  who  has  been  two 
years  on  the  continent,  will  be  there  this  autumn, 
in  the  house  of  this,  her  grandmother.  She  loves 
me  much  and  would,  I  think,  act  energetically 
for  me,  if  without  acquainting  her  with  the  extra 
circumstances.  I  told  her  that  a  fair  girl  who 
had  been  in  this  country,  and  in  whom  I  was 
interested,  needed  friends  and  employment.  (So 
would  Miss  Martineau,  if  in  London.)  But  per 
haps  they  could  not  do  better  than  the  friend 
under  whose  care  you  have  left  her.  But  if  you 


144  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  think  they  could,  give  me  her  name  and  address, 
and  tell  me  just  what  to  say  about  her.  She  may 
need  female  protection  and  the  old  lady,  a 
Quaker,  would  be  a  refuge  to  her. 

Whatever  else  this  affair  brings,  believe  that 
it  has  brought  you  a  portion  of  immortal  love. 
It  is  not  only  your  noble  frankness  towards 
me,  though  you  avowed  to  me  the  thoughts 
and  possibilities,  which  prevented  your  first 
action  in  this  case  from  being  wholly  disinter 
ested  and  though  the  falsehood  and  other  cir 
cumstances  of  your  position  were  painful  to 
me,  yet  I  know,  that  your  main  impulse  was 
always  noble,  and  that  the  latter  part  of  the 
time  you  acted  solely  from  fidelity  to  the  duty 
you  had  undertaken,  and  disinterested  regard 
to  its  subject.  The  sense  of  this  is  immortal 
with  me. 

Yet  I  do  ardently  hope  that  you  will  now  be 
able  to  find  a  clear  path.  Now  is  the  crisis.  You 
have  great  experience,  great  ideas,  a  religious 
heart  and  unbroken  manhood.  You  ought  to 
have  a  place,  where  you  can  act  freely,  and,  so 
far  as  is  given  to  men,  bless  and  be  blessed.  We 
all  ascend  the  mountain;  some  after  conquering 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  145 

the  obstacles  near  the  base  find  a  path  amid  lofty  LETTER 
trees,  and  though  they  may  have  to  climb  over 
terrible  rocks  and  be  beset  by  wild  beasts  or 
fretted  by  thorns  or  hunger,  still  they  have  a 
distinct  path,  and  are  often  comforted  and  ani 
mated  by  wide  outlooks,  or  bright  sunlight  vis 
iting  them  through  the  branches.  But  others 
have  to  cut  wearily  their  course  day  by  day 
through  the  thicket  and  never  know  their  way 
nor  their  journey's  aim,  till  they  see  the  stars 
from  the  top.  May  my  brother  be  of  the  first! 
He  would  know  how  to  use  and  enjoy  a  free  life 
for  himself  and  others. 

You  will  laugh  perhaps,  but  whenever  I  meet 
one  of  those  wagons,  labelled  Rockland  Lake  Ice, 
I  think  it  will  all  be  well,  that  you  will  be  the 
bearer  of  something  as  clear  and  refreshing  in 
a  more  suitable  vehicle,  and  I  myself  shall  drink 
it  in  with  the  water  and  milk  which  every-day 
earth  affords. 

Much  did  I  write  of  these  and  other  matters 
in  the  big  letter;  especially  was  a  deep  mood, 
while  staying  last  week  in  New  Jersey,  noted 
down.  That  was  the  6th  and  7th  August.  I 
made  a  request  to  you  in  the  end.  We  shall  see 

11 


146  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      if  you  will  not  comply  without  being  asked  in 


XLIII 

words. 


Your  pictures  are  all  correct,  except  that  I 
do  not  go  to  the  little  wood.  I  have  never,  even 
with  mother.  I  have  been  to  the  wall,  but  you 
always  used  to  take  me  over,  and  now  to  get 
over  by  myself  and  walk  there  alone  is  too  sad. 
I  could  not  go.  I  pray  for  you  sometimes  on  the 
rocks,  but  they  are  little  fluttering  prayers  that 
may  not  rise  very  high.  Yourself  will  be  your 
own  prayer,  but  I,  if  indeed  your  Muse,  may  help 
inspire  you  to  make  it  earnest.  I  wear  my  pret 
tiest  dresses  at  those  times  that  I  go  to  think  of 
you,  as  if  you  were  here,  but  when  I  take  Josey, 
he  gets  salt  water  all  over  them.  I  have  not  the 
heart,  however,  to  be  angry — he  looks  up  with 
such  loving  eyes.  When  he  is  in  the  water,  ever 
so  far  off,  if  I  make  the  least  sound,  he  turns 
them  right  upon  me.  I  am  much  troubled  about 
him;  his  eyes  looked  so  bad  two  or  three  weeks 
ago,  that  I  begun  to  take  all  the  charge  of  him, 
but  he  seems  as  yet  little  better,  and  a  gentleman 
who  was  here  yesterday,  said  they  had  an  expres 
sion  as  if  he  would  not  live  long.  Would  it  not 
be  a  great  grief  to  you  to  come  back  and  find  him 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  147 

not?     Can  you  tell  me  what  to  do?     The  people      LETTER 
round  here  say  he  should  take  sulphur,  but  Mrs. 
Greeley  is  not  willing. 

She  has  been  quite  ill  and  I  now  think  it  was 
nervous  irritation  that  occasioned  some  appear 
ances  of  which  I  wrote  you.  She  is  better.  The 
baby  is  beautiful  now.  In  each  letter  you  have 
spoken  as  if  you  might  remain  in  Europe ;  is 
anything  now  influencing  you  ?  You  always  said 
to  me,  you  felt  yourself  permanently  a  citizen 
of  the  United  States. 

You  expressed  some  care  about  me  in  addi 
tion  to  your  other  perplexities,  but  do  not  feel 
it ;  nothing  threatens  near ;  there  are  causes  that 
might  break  the  domestic  relations,  but  do  not 
seem  likely  to  the  business  ones.  I  feel  fixed  here 
for  the  present. 

I  passed  some  days  last  week  in  New  Jersey  of 
which  was  also  some  notice  in  the  big  letter.  Dur 
ing  my  absence  Mrs.  P.  stayed  here.  This  lady 
does  not  improve  upon  me.  Her  conversation  and 
temper  of  mind  bear  traces  of  much  low  converse. 

I  have  had  some  congenial  hours,  for  Mr. 
Emerson  has  been  here  two  days,  full  of  free  talk 
and  in  serene  beauty  as  ever ;  he  went  yesterday. 


148 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLIII 


I  am  going  to-morrow  evening  with  Mr.  Ben 
son,  to  hear  The  Huguenots — since  you  did. 
It  seems  whimsical  or  like  the  influence  of  a  star 
to  go  thus  with  your  townsman.  He  is  the  bodily, 
you  the  spiritual  presence  of  that  Hamburg  in 
fluence.  I  am  inclined  to  scold  Fate  who  has 
given  him  all  the  money  and  the  broad  place  to 
stand  on,  and  you  chiefly  the  cares  and  scruples 
that  haunt  the  life  of  trade,  and  certainly  I  see 
no  propriety  in  her  keeping  him  here  and  send 
ing  you  there ! 

Yet  are  you  with  me  more  than  ever,  espe 
cially  when  I  wake,  so  that  I  do  not  like  to  rise 
and  break  it  all  up.  Always  we  were  nearest  at 
early  morning  and  are  so  still.  Is  it  that  we  have 
met  in  dreams  or  only  that  the  mind  has  been 
refreshed  by  sleep? 

I  told  you  in  the  big  letter  of  the  next  scene 
in  the  life  of  Mrs.  Barnett  and  how  she  was  be 
friended  by  one  who  had  been  her  schoolboy  lover. 
But  I  shall  have  occasion  yet  to  tell  you  all  these 
little  things,  for  surely  we  shall  yet  sit  together 
in  the  greenwood  shade  and  reveal  those  finer 
facts  or  signs  of  life,  that  others  do  not  ap 
preciate. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  149 

Another  thing  I  must  quote  from  the  bygone  LETTER 
letter.  Now  you  are  in  the  region  of  artists  will 
you  not  have  your  picture  taken?  If  a  good 
miniature  on  ivory  is  too  great  an  extravagance, 
I  have  seen  excellent  likenesses  in  coloured  cray 
ons  of  large  miniature  size.  But  do  not  have 
it  taken  at  all,  unless  it  can  be  excellently  well 
done. 

Evening  of  12th. 

Mrs.  Greeley  has  just  come  in  and  sends  her 
love,  but  I  in  vain  suggest  a  kiss  in  return  for  the 
one  she  received  by  steamer  last. 

Keep  by  me  and  Josey — let  me  not  go  till 
the  whole  mystery  be  known.  And  now,  at  least 
with  this  pen,  farewell,  could  but  the  words  be 
come  instinct  with  the  soul,  how  sweetly  would 
they  beam  and  breathe  upon  thee,  liebster  Freund. 

By  last  steamer  I  sent  two  large  letters  from 
me  and  a  circular  from  Mr.  Bancroft,  not  all 
you  need,  I  fear,  yet  hope  it  arrives  safe. 


New  York,  31st  August,  1845.  LETTER 

XLIV 

We  said  farewell  the  first  day  of  summer  and 
now  it  is  the  last.     It  is  again  Sunday,  the  same 


5o 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLIV 


hour  in  the  evening.  I  am  by  the  window  in  the 
little  study  recess  with  the  tree  looking  in,  and 
the  stars  looking  through  it,  "  but  where  art 
thou !  " 

It  is  gone  forever,  the  beautiful  summer, 
\\  hen  we  might  have  been  so  happy  together,  and 
happy  in  a  way,  that  neither  of  us  ever  will  be 
with  any  other  person.  Oh,  it  is  very  sad !  My 
friend,  shed  some  tears  with  me. 

Why,  why  must  you  leave  me?  If  you  had 
stayed,  I  should  have  been  well  and  strong  by  this 
time,  and  had  so  much  natural  joy  and  so  many 
thoughts  of  childhood!  And  you?  have  you 
gained  much  thus  far? 

I  will  write  no  more  to-night.  I  am  heart 
sick  about  it  all.  I  am  wishing  so  much  for  a 
letter,  yet  when  it  comes,  how  little  it  will  be; 
letters  are  so  little  and  you  do  not  love  writing ; 
that  makes  it  worse  yet.  O  the  summer !  "  the 
green  and  bowery  summer !  "  gone,  irrecoverably 
gone! 

Yet,  all  through  it,  have  I  been  growing  in 
the  knowledge  of  you.  You  would  be  surprised 
to  find  how  much  better  I  know  you  than  when 
we  parted.  But  I  should  have  been  so  much  more 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


in   the    ideal    intercourse ! 
I   must   fret,   must,   must 


happy  in  real  than 
Why!  Why?  Yes 
grieve. 

5th  September. 

Last  night  came  the  wished  for  letter,  dated 
Paris,  12th  August.  But  dearest,  it  seemed  cold 
and  scanty.  It  was  five  weeks  since  I  had  had 
one ;  that  is  a  long  revolution  for  an  earthly 
moon.  She  needs  then  to  come  into  full  light. 
You  say  "  be  embraced  "  but  this  letter  is  not 
an  embrace,  and  that  was  what  I  needed,  to  feel 
the  warmth  of  your  heart  and  soul ;  it  would  have 
enlivened  me  at  once.  Yet  I  do  feel  as  if  I  lived 
in  your  thoughts  constantly,  as  you  do  in  mine, 
but  the  need  of  some  outward  sign  is  only  the 
same  as  that  you  express  about  having  with  you 
no  letters,  "  nothing  to  kiss  " — it  would  be  such 
a  relief,  and  "  cast  a  light  upon  the  day,  a  light 
that  would  not  go  away,  a  sweet  forewarning." 
I  acquiesce  in  what  you  say  of  the  dissipating 
influence  of  travel,  and  that  you  will  ever  with 
me  be  truthful,  nor  profane  the  pen  by  writing 
from  any  but  the  mood  you  are  in.  This  truth 
fulness,  which  has  made  us  to  one  another  all 
that  we  are,  shall  ever  be  welcome  to  me,  however 


LETTER 
XLIV 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER  bitter  the  truths  it  may  bring  ;  but  is  it  not  true 
that  you  were  chilled  by  not  receiving  a  letter 
from  me  when  you  expected?  Now  this  was  in 
consequence  of  your  own  directions  that  I 
"  should  write  by  the  two  next  steamers  and  not 
again  till  I  heard  from  you."  I  pray  thee,  if 
any  disappointment  of  this  kind  occur  in  future, 
attribute  it  to  misunderstanding  or  accident  ;  I 
must  change  indeed,  more  than  seems  now  pos 
sible,  if  I  can  voluntarily  omit  writing.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  a  painful  repression,  that  I  can 
not  write  far  oftener.  I  feel  peculiarly  anxious 
on  this  point,  because  Mr.  Greeley  has  twice  now 
mislaid  my  letters  when  they  were  of  importance 
and  in  both  instances  I  have  only  discovered  his 
having  done  so  by  accident.  There  is  no  help 
for  this,  as  he  is  far  more  careful  of  my  affairs 
than  his  own,  and  only  at  times,  when  he  has 
some  piece  of  writing  in  his  head  is  so  incurably 
careless.  Promise  me,  then,  that  if  any  gap  of 
silence  should  occur,  you  will  attribute  it  to  some 
such  cause.  I,  on  my  side,  have  deep  confidence 
in  your  honourable  and  tender  care  of  me.  I 
know,  if  you  give  yourself  to  other  influences,  it 
is  not  likely  to  be  lightly  or  suddenly,  for  your 


Love -Letter  s  of  Margaret  Fuller  153 

nature  is  not  light  or  shallow,  and  you  are  now  a  LETTER 
mature  man,  so  I  shall  not  lightly  believe  in  your 
silence.  I  feel  more  apprehension  on  this  subject, 
because  once  in  my  life,  two  consecutive  letters, 
intercepted  on  their  passage  to  me,  occasioned 
great  unhappiness  to  another,  and  in  my  mind 
would  have  left  wonder  and  sadness  always  but 
for  an  accident  that  cleared  all  up.  So,  my  loved 
brother,  believe  ever  I  hold  thy  hand,  though  the 
veil  of  darkness  may  have  fallen  so  that  thou 
canst  not  see  where  I  am.  And  then,  remember, 
that  only  a  day  or  two  before  you  went  away, 
you  talked  of  "  whether  a  man  of  honour  ought 
to  seek  Kingsbury  "  unless  sure  of  being  able  to 
feel  as  much.  And  sometimes,  when  sadness  op 
presses  me,  and  I  might  like  to  give  way  to  all 
the  impulses  of  my  soul,  I  cannot  but  remember, 
that  if  sometimes  you  have  called  on  me  to  do  so 
at  others  there  have  been  on  your  part  careful 
limitations  as  to  yourself,  doubting  the  extent  or 
permanence  of  your  feelings  for  me. 

Dearest,  Heaven  grant  that  all  this  may  be 
tempered  betwixt  us  to  a  permanent  music;  we 
have  reason  to  hope  it  may  be  so,  for  Heaven 
alone  has  brought  us  near;  no  earthly  circum- 


1 54  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  stance  favoured  it  at  all.  Yet  again  we  may  only 
be  lent  to  one  another  for  0  «eason  and  then 
withdrawn  for  other  duties  and  relations.  The 
sense  of  this  sometimes  checks  my  feelings  on 
their  sweetest  flight.  All  the  flowers  are  worth 
cultivating;  those  which  have  on  them  the  doom 
of  mortality  are  even  more  touchingly  beautiful 
that  we  must  prize  them  to-day,  since  they  have 
no  to-morrow,  but  only  the  amaranth  is  worthy  to 
be  watered,  the  purple  with  our  life-blood,  the 
white  with  our  holiest  tears.  Yet  let  not  chance 
snatch  anything  from  us,  she  is  a  wicked  goddess 
and  would  not  be  especially  kind  to  us,  who  have 
never  been  willing  to  trust  her.  For  in  this  we  are 
alike,  looking  forward,  planning  life.  Enough ! 
You  will  love  me  as  much,  as  long,  and  as  care 
fully  as  you  can,  will  you  not?  For  though  the 
essence  be  indestructible,  the  crystal  that  incloses 
it  may  be  broken,  and  the  perfume  escape — far 
into  another  life  perhaps.  I  on  my  side  will  be 
equally  careful,  for  though  you  are  a  strong 
man,  I  do  not  think  you,  in  this  sense,  less  delicate 
than  I. 

I  wish,  that  I  had  written,  if  only  that  the 
letter  might  go  with  you  into  Switzerland.     I 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  155 

think  of  you  now  beside  those  torrents  or  look-  LETTER 
ing  up  to  those  sublime  peaks,  for  which  I  have 
so  longed  in  vain.  You  will  have  these  holy 
places  much  to  yourself,  at  least  I  see  that  a  great 
proportion  of  the  professed  tourists  and  sketch- 
ers,  who  usually  infest  these  beautiful  scenes, 
have  been  kept  away  by  the  agitations  of  the 
country.  And  Rome — greet  the  Sistine  and  the 
halls  of  the  Vatican  for  me,  and  say  that  I  am 
no  longer  fevered  to  see  them,  for  Rome  has 
grown  up  in  my  soul  in  default  of  the  bodily 
presence,  nor  could  the  interval  of  space  hinder 
my  communion  with  Domenichino,  Raphael  and 
Michelangelo.  I  am  glad  you  begin  to  love 
pictures;  that  is  a  world  by  itself,  and  the  true 
comfort  from  the  strifes  of  this  world  to  see 
human  nature  represented  as  it  ought  to  be,  as, 
yet,  in  some  serene  world,  it  must  and  will  be.  In 
Michelangelo  you  would  find  an  echo  to  the  deep 
est  tones  of  Jewish  inspiration,  men  and  women 
sublimed  to  children  of  God  and  masters  of 
Eternity. 

In  my  letters  of  1st  and  15th  August  (three 
in  all,  long  and — pardon  me — too  heavy,  at 
least  in  a  material  sense)  you  will  find  what  I 


156  Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      say  of  your  letters  to  the  Tribune ;  the  same  ap- 

XLIV 

plies  to  these.  They  are  very  good.  I  shall 
however  remodel  those  I  have  now,  a  little,  leav 
ing  out  some  particulars,  that  are  better  known 
than  you  suppose.  Already  you  write  well,  and 
a  year  or  two  of  composition  for  such  purposes 
would  correct  trifling  faults  and  give  you  full 
command  of  English.  I  hope  you  will  continue 
as  often  and  as  earnestly  as  you  can.  Give  next, 
letters  from  Paris  (in  full),  from  Switzerland, 
beautiful  as  that  on  the  moon  at  sea.  Rome  is 
an  all-hackneyed  theme  and  by  the  most  accom 
plished  pens,  but  you  will  find  somewhat  of  your 
own,  no  doubt.  Do  not  describe  outward  objects 
there  in  detail :  we  know  every  nook  of  St.  Peter's, 
every  statue,  every  villa  by  heart  almost.  But 
what  you  see  characteristic  and  your  own 
thoughts  will  interest. 

Now  if  you  want  the  particulars  from  the 
"  Crescent  and  the  Crown  "  I  will  inclose  them 
with  my  letter. 

After  finishing  the  copy  I  lay  down  and  fell 
asleep  for  a  while,  when  that  happened  which  has 
several  times  while  you  were  here,  when  I  had 
seemed  to  be  put  from  you  during  an  interview. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  157 

The  next  time  I  fell  asleep,  my  spirit  would  LETTER 
seem  to  be  drawn  to  yours  and  there  soothed  and 
cherished  like  a  pet  dove,  till  it  came  back  in  its 
native  buoyancy  and  peace.  I  feel  quite  happy 
now,  and  I  have  you  with  me — as  a  river  that  has 
passed  through  another,  rushes  joyous  and  en 
riched  on  its  course.  Yet  the  time  of  words  and 
discussions  must  come  again,  but  do  thou,  oh 
Father,  lead  us  through.  Bless  thy  children! 

You  do  not  speak  to  me  of  the  deep  things  of 
the  Spirit,  but  you  will  in  due  time,  and  of  the 
promises.  But  I  will  write  no  more,  for  there  is 
neither  time  nor  word  as  yet.  But  sometime, 
surely,  I  shall  have  beautiful  things  to  tell  and  to 
hear.  How  rejoiced  wras  I  to  hear  that  the 
maiden  is  like  to  do  so  well.  I  had  cumbered 
myself  much  since  hearing  that  she  could  not  go 
to  her  home.  But  I  had  not  urged  to  see  her  and 
persuaded  her  to  stay  here,  for  I  felt  sure  I  could 
have  had  her  well  placed  in  Massachusetts.  But 
now  it  is  well  and  thy  deed  of  love  will  yet,  I 
trust,  bear  worthy  fruits. 

I  live  here  still  in  extreme  seclusion,  too  much 

—I  believe — for  my  spirits.     I  have  only  been  to 

Rockaway  a  few  days;  these  I  enjoyed  much;  it 


i58 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLIV 


LETTER 
XLV 


was  transcendent  moonlight  all  the  time  and  then 
by  day  I  was  in  the  surf  or  riding  fleetly  on  the 
noble  beach. 

At  home  the  baby  is  my  chief  company,  he 
grows  more  and  more  lovely  and  begins  to  talk ; 
it  is  enchanting  to  see  the  faculties  developed 
one  after  the  other  and  learn  yourself  in  the 
clear  eyes  of  a  child.  His  mother  is  well  again. 
I  am  going  to  Massachusetts  soon  for  a  month 
and  I  need  it,  for  there  I  shall  be  obliged  or 
induced  to  keep  in  bodily  motion  all  the  time  and 
not  use  my  eyes  for  reading  or  writing.  Josey 
is  pretty  well ;  I  have  given  him  up  to  the  man 
again  after  taking  care  myself  for  some  weeks. 
I  had  too  much  trouble,  not  with,  but  about  him. 


13th  Sept.,  1845. 
DEAREST, 

I  must  begin  all  the  leaves  this  time  with  the 
sweet  word,  I  feel  so  confiding  and  affectionate. 
Last  night  came  your  book — Foscolo  on  Pe 
trarch.  I  have  read  this  book,  but  am  very 
glad  to  own  it,  and  to  feel  with  what  thoughts 
you  sent  it.  It  was  delightful  too,  to  receive 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


59 


something  unexpectedly.  I  touched  my  lips  to 
the  well-known  characters  and  felt  that  we  wrere 
together. 

There  came,  too,  a  book  from  Mr.  Delf.  It 
was  translations  from  the  Vita  Nuova  and  Con- 
vito  of  Dante  with  a  fine  head  of  him  on  the  first 
leaf.  The  Vita  Nuova  has  been  one  of  the  most 
cherished  companions  of  my  life.  Dante  has 
made  a  record  which  corresponds  in  some  degree 
with  my  intuitions,  as  to  the  newr  life  of  love, 
although  I  have  an  idea  of  much,  besides  what 
he  mentions,  for  he  loved  from  afar  and  never 
entered  into  the  most  intimate  relations.  But 
both  Dante  and  Petrarch,  though  they  truly 
loved,  did  not  keep  themselves  sacred  to  the  celes 
tial  Venus,  but  turned  aside  in  hours  of  weakness 
to  a  lower  love.  Michelangelo  alone  was  true  to 
his  idea  of  love,  even  when  he  could  not  hope  the 
possession  of  its  object.  But  all  three  of  these 
great  Italians  seem  to  me  to  have  discerned  the 
true  nature  of  Love,  enough  to  have  received 
some  of  its  almighty  revelations. 

I  was  glad,  too,  to  have  the  book  from  Mr. 
Delf  for  I  would  like  to  have  your  best  friend 
become  mine.  Yet,  have  no  confidant  as  to 


LETTER 
XLV 


160  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  our  relationship.  I  have  had  and  shall  have 
none.  I  wish  to  be  alone  with  you  in  strict 
communion. 

I  feel  much  happier  now,  about  your  absence ; 
in  this  sense,  if  it  is  improving  you,  I  ought  to 
be  willing,  and  now  the  summer  is  over,  it  is  not 
so  much  matter.  We  could  not  have  such  happy 
times  together  in  the  winter,  even  if  you  were 
here,  as  when  we  could  wander  through  the  woods 
and  fields.  I  will  try  to  do  without  you  now, 
only  earnestly,  fervently  hoping  you  will  not  be 
debarred  from  visiting  the  East,  but  that  Novem 
ber  or  December  will  see  you  on  the  lotus-bear 
ing  Nile.  By  the  way,  I  wish  much  I  had  told 
you  the  story  of  Isis  and  Osiris.  It  is  like  your 
religion.  But  a  time  may  come. 

Yet  yesterday  a  proposition  was  made  me, 
which,  if  accepted,  might  take  me  to  Europe  just 
as  you  come  back.  Would  not  that  be  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  Angel's  management?  But  I  do 
not  think  it  will  happen  so. 

I  want  you  very  much  to  write  so  that  I  shall 
get  letters  every  two  or  three  weeks,  whether  you 
hear  from  me  or  not,  for  when  you  do  not,  it  will 
always  be  that  I  do  not  get  your  address  in  time, 


XLV 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  161 

and  as  mine  is  always  the  same,  you  might  write      LETTER 
as  often  to  me ;  do ! 

Your  letters  to  the  Tribune  are  printed,  ex 
cept  the  last  which  will  probably  be  in  the  daily 
of  16th— the  others  are  10th,  12th.  The  first 
and  last  (3d  and  5th)  are  best;  there  is  most  of 
your  direct  observation  in  them.  If  you  could 
mix  in  them  personal  life  still  more,  it  would  im 
prove  them.  Send  these,  too,  as  often  as  you  can, 
that  the  interest  may  be  kept  alive.  I  expect  very 
good  ones  about  Paris,  as  you  will  see  through 
veils,  and  want  you  to  give  free  play  to  your 
feelings  in  writing  of  Switzerland  and  beauti 
ful  nature  everywhere ;  there  is  strong  practical 
sense  enough  to  give  enthusiasm  the  needed  relief. 

Not  having  heard  from  Mr.  Tobler  I  went 
yesterday  and  spoke  to  him,  but  he  had  nothing 
as  yet  to  say,  if  he  had,  would  write  me  a  note 
for  you  to-morrow. 

I  have  had  a  most  lovely  letter  from  my  loved 
brother  Eugene.  Brighter  prospects  seem  dawn 
ing  on  him.  He  is  now  to  be  co-editor  of  a  very 
good  paper  in  New  Orleans  and  in  part  proprie 
tor  by-and-bye,  when  he  wishes.  His  love  and  de 
votion  for  me  seem  even  greater  than  ever  and 

12 


1 62  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      there  is  now  a  prospect  of  our  playing  into  one 

XLV 

another's  hands  and  by-and-bye  meeting.  May 
you  experience  the  joys  of  sympathy  when  meet 
ing  those  of  your  blood !  may  they  prove  such 
that  you  can  meet  in  deep  congeniality  of  inter 
course. 

I  often  wonder  when  I  think  how  entirely  you 
have  been  debarred  from  these  sweet  charities, 
that  you  are  so  generous  and  good  in  the  inmost 
heart  and  so  warm  and  tender  in  life  as  you  are ! 
But  the  Angels  had  a  care  of  you !  For  to-day 
with  them  I  leave  you. 

Sunday  evening,  15th. 

I  have  kept  open  the  letter,  hoping  to  have 
news  for  you  from  Mr.  Tobler,  but  he  has  sent 
no  note. 

This  has  been  a  very  happy  day  with  me.  A 
dear  friend  came  about  noon  to  announce  a  joy 
ful  change  in  his  fate  and  has  only  just  left  me. 
I  am  feeling  very  happy  in  the  crisis  that  brings 
a  noble  being  liberation  from  many  woes  and  per 
plexities,  but  over-excited.  My  head  throbs;  it 
is  time  to  go  to  rest,  but  I  feel  I  shall  not  sleep 
and  the  hand  trembles  so,  I  can  hardly  write.  I 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  163 

feel  grateful  for  something  manifestly  right,  LETTER 
and  more  noble,  more  confident  in  God  than  usual. 
I  blame  myself  for  writing  in  the  within :  "  Let 
us  love,  carefully."  I  ought  not  thus  to  shrink 
from  giving  or  receiving  pain — yes,  it  is  most 
true,  the  fault  you  find  in  me.  I  am  faultily  sen 
sitive,  I  ought  to  have  more  noble  faith,  I  will 
try ;  we  both  will — will  we  not,  loved  brother,  to 
be  constantly  nobler  and  better? 

I  know  not  that  I  can  write  more  to-night. 
Many  little  events  have  occurred  to  me  and  I  have 
been  away ;  last  moon  at  Rockaway  on  the  noble 
beach  with  the  surf  rushing  in,  I  thought  of  thee 
every  night  and  in  a  sense  all  the  time,  so  near 
wert  thou,  and  to-night  when  her  holy  rays  steal 
through  my  windows,  I  bless  thee  and  pray  that 
life  may  purify  and  perfect  thy  noble  nature, 
until  the  message  of  thy  soul  be  fully  spoken. 
God  grant  this  prayer  and  make  it  a  solace  to 
the  pilgrim  to  know,  that  it  lives  always  and 
more  and  more  warmly  in  the  heart  of  his 
Muse. 

P.  S.  I  looked  all  through  the  life  of  Pe 
trarch  for  your  pencil-marks,  but  had  to  fancy 
them. 


164 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLVI 


The  Farm,  September  29th,  1845. 

Here  I  am  still,  dear  friend,  although  next 
Saturday  will  see  me  in  Massachusetts.  These 
are  the  loveliest  days  of  the  American  year;  the 
breezes  are  melody  and  balm,  the  sunlight  pours 
in  floods  through  the  foliage,  itself  transparent 
gold.  The  water  is  so  very  blue  and  animated, 
the  sail-boats  bound  along,  as  if  they  felt  like 
me.  I  have  been  inexpressibly  happy  these  last 
few  days,  the  weather  within  has  been  just  the 
same  as  without.  I  am  generally  serene  and 
rather  bright,  but  these  feelings  are  joy.  Even 
for  thee,  I  seldom  feel  regret;  sometimes  indeed 
I  turn  suddenly,  my  heart  full  of  something  1 
want  to  say,  and  long  to  meet  thine  eye,  but 
oftener  I  feel,  thou  art  indeed  here  much  of  the 
time  and  the  rest  looking  on  what  is  beautiful 
and  full  of  rich  suggestions ;  thou  art  living  and 
growing  and  in  all  this  I  have  my  part.  Yes,  in 
all  that  enriches  and  dignifies  thy  life  I  have  my 
part.  And  say,  dear  brother,  brother  of  my  soul, 
have  I  not  been  much  with  thee  in  beautiful 
Switzerland  and  Italy?  Had  I  been  with  thee 
indeed,  often  we  might  have  shared  the  same 


Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  165 

quick  glance,  the  same  full  gaze  and  every  joy      LETTER 
of  sympathy,  where  nature,  at  least,   and  the 
memories   of  human  greatness   are  worth  sym 
pathy. 

But  then  there  would  have  been  many  rough 
and  difficult  places,  where  thou  must  have  up 
borne  me  in  thy  strong  arms  or  else  I  could  not 
have  gone.  So  I  should  have  been  in  fact  some 
times  a  burden,  but  in  thought,  in  memory,  I 
have  been  altogether  a  sweet  companion,  have  I 
not?  One  who  gives  no  trouble  and  shares  all 
joys !  If  I  had  written  you  any  letters  that  were 
good,  I  should  think,  you  had  just  received  such 
an  one,  from  this  joy  I  have  in  being  drawn  to 
you.  But  I  know  too  well,  how  frivolous,  feeble 
and  inexpressive  of  what  I  really  thought  all 
mine  have  been.  I  think  it  must  be  merely  that 
you  are  happy  in  the  grandeur  and  beauty  you 
have  seen  and  that  your  feelings  of  happiness  ex 
tend  to  me. 

I  feel  as  if  we  were  both  within  the  pure 
white  veil.  I  have  kept  my  promise  and  never 
thought  why  you  gave  me  that  token,  but  when 
ever  I  have  these  lovely  feelings  as  if  we  were  both 
in  an  atmosphere  of  love  and  purity,  I  take  it  out 


i66 


Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLVI 


and  look  at  it,  and  then  again  I  vow  to  trust 
our  God,  and  what  is  deepest  in  the  impulses  he 
has  given.  He  will  protect,  and  the  pure  silver 
haze  he  will  cast  around,  shall  be  more  efficient 
than  armour  of  triple  brass  against  all  evil  pow 
ers.  And  amid  that  silver  haze  I  am  with  thee, 
my  brother,  and  repeat  the  holy  vows  I  made, 
when  thy  generous  soul  was  most  made  known  to 
mine,  and  I  meet  the  full  look  of  thy  eye,  and  it 
is  not  tearful  and  thy  voice  in  its  rich  persuasive 
tones  answers  to  the  vow. 

At  such  times  there  is  no  more  age  or  sin 
or  sadness.  Oh  may  the  immortal  births  of 
them — those  creatures  of  our  true  selves — grow 
daily  in  strength,  in  sweetness  and  in  purity. 

I  will  not  write  any  more ;  it  is  all  in  vain,  I 
cannot  relieve  my  heart ;  it  craves  expression,  but 
cannot  find  it  in  words. 

80th  Sept. 

This  is  a  most  lovely,  pensive  evening.  My 
willow  shakes  its  long  graceful  locks  with  deep 
sighs,  warm  breezes  sweeping  slowly  by.  I 
have  taken  infinite  pleasure  in  that  tree  and 
hope  it  has  some  consciousness  of  what  it  has 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  167 

been  to  a  human  heart.  I  shall  see  it  no  more  LETTER 
in  beauty,  for  when  I  return  from  Massachusetts 
its  leaves  will  have  fallen  and  will  not  dress  it 
again  by  the  time  we  go  next  spring.  For  it  is 
decided  that  we  go  and  no  more  shall  my  brother 
and  I  meet  on  the  rocks,  where  the  waves  lap  so 
gently  or  in  the  little  paths  of  our  dear  wood.  I 
have  never  been  there  yet  since  Sunday  1st  June. 
Last  Sunday  it  looked  tempting,  but  I  would 
not.  I  have  made  no  vow  lest  I  be  forced  to  break 
it  by  some  chance,  but  feel  as  if  I  should  never 
go  there  again,  unless  with  you. 

To-night  is  the  anniversary  of  my  father's 
death;  just  about  this  time  he  left  us  and  my 
hand  closed  his  eyes.  Never  has  that  hand  since 
been  employed  in  an  act  so  holy,  yet  it  has  done 
so  much,  it  seems  as  I  look  on  it,  almost  a  separate 
mind.  It  is  a  pure  hand  thus  far  from  evil;  it 
has  given  no  false  tokens  of  any  kind.  My 
father,  from  that  home  of  higher  life  you  now 
inhabit,  does  not  your  blessing  still  accompany 
the  hand,  that  hid  the  sad  sights  of  this  world 
from  your  eyes,  which  had  begun  to  weep  at 
them?  My  friend,  I  think  it  does;  I  think  he 
thus  far  would  bless  his  child.  We  have  both 


1 68  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  upright  and  pure  men  to  our  fathers.  Is  it  not 
a  great  happiness?  I  realize  it  more  and  more. 
Our  star  had  some  benign  rays. 


LETTER  New  York,  31st  Dec.,  1845. 

XLVII 

I  have  waited  till  the  last  moment,  dear 
friend,  hoping  to  hear  from  you  again  before 
writing.  I  have  received  only  one  letter  in  the 
course  of  more  than  three  months.  That  was 
dated  Florence  27th  September  but  did  not  reach 
me  till  1st  December,  nor  till  I  had  felt  much 
troubled  by  so  long  a  pause.  You  had  not  then 
had  any  letters  from  me  since  leaving  England, 
but  as  I  knew  by  a  letter  from  Mr.  Delf,  that 
they  would  reach  you  in  Rome  by  the  middle  of 
October,  I  have  been  expecting  ever  since  to  hear 
from  you  in  answer  to  them.  But  not  a  word ! 
I  feel  entirely  unlike  writing  without  hearing, 
nor  would  I,  but  that  you  express  a  strong  wish 
to  find  letters  in  Hamburg  on  your  arrival,  and 
now  the  semi-monthly  steamers  have  stopped  for 
the  winter,  I  shall  not  have  a  chance  to  send 
quick  again  before  1st  February  if  I  do  not  write 
bv  this  one. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


169 


You  said  in  the  letter  from  Florence  that 
you  told  me  you  "  would  not  be  able  to  keep  up 
a  real  correspondence  with  me  while  absent." 
But,  on  the  contrary,  while  here,  you  used  always 
to  be  telling  me  that  you  could  not  write,  be 
cause  people  interrupted  you  at  the  office,  or 
because  you  had  a  person  with  you  at  home, 
whom  you  did  not  wish  to  see  you  writing  the 
letters.  I  often  felt  as  if  you  sacrificed  both 
writing  to  me  and  seeing  me  to  trifles,  and  wished 
it  had  been  otherwise,  for  I  thought  the  greater 
was  sacrificed  to  the  lesser,  even  according  to 
your  own  view  of  our  relation.  Still  I  did  not 
listen  to  these  feelings,  as  they  were  super 
ficial,  compared  with  that  of  the  inevitable- 
ness  and  deep  root  in  the  character  of  both, 
of  the  bond  between  us.  But  when  urging  me 
to  write  at  our  last  meeting  you  said  expressly 
"  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  as  I  would,  but 
I  shall  now  and  shall  answer  in  full,  if  you  wrill 
write." 

You  are  your  own  master,  at  present ;  you 
have  no  companions,  unless  from  choice,  noth 
ing  to  interrupt  you.  You  are  amid  the  scenes 
and  impressions,  it  seems  to  me,  most  congenial 


LETTER 
XLVII 


17°  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  with  the  thought  of  me,  and  if  you  cannot  write 
now,  when,  my  friend,  could  you? 

I  am  deeply  touched  by  what  you  say  of  not 
finding  help  as  to  repose  of  mind  or  religion. 
Many  considerations  have  occurred  to  me  as  to 
the  burning  pain  which  the  wrongs  and  woes  of 
men  cause  you.  But  I  will  not  write  them  yet, 
hoping  we  shall  meet  again,  when  they  can  in 
full  be  expressed  and  you  see  whether  you  find 
any  worth  in  them. 

I  feel  much  disappointed  to  find  that  you  can 
not,  after  all,  go  to  the  East  this  winter.  It 
was  all  useless  then  for  you  to  hurry  away. 
You  might  have  stayed  longer  and  last  summer 
not  have  been  lost.  And  how  will  it  be  now? 
Shall  you  not  return  here  in  the  spring?  Shall 
you  go  to  the  East  another  autumn?  Shall  you 
give  it  up  altogether?  Write  me  of  this  as  soon 
as  possible. 

I  am  glad  but  not  surprised  that  the  great 
works  of  art  have  become  familiar  to  you.  But 
you  will  find  deeper  and  deeper  senses  as  you  look 
more.  I  am  glad  and  a  little  surprised  that  the 
Medicean  Venus  did  not  please  you.  I  want  much 
to  know  what  you  saw  in  Rome.  And  Naples? 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  171 

you    are    going    there    surely?      There    and    in      LETTER 
Switzerland    it    was    my    place    to    have    been 
with  you. 

We  have  lately  had  published  here  books  of 
travel  very  minute  about  Switzerland  by  Mr. 
Cheever  who  saw  a  great  deal,  but  mixed  it  all 
up  with  sectarianism  and  books,  and  by  Mr. 
Headley  who  has  a  real  love  of  natural  beauty 
and  picturesque  power  in  describing  it.  Mr. 
Headley  is  one  of  the  few  entertaining  persons 
I  know  here ;  he  is  full  of  vivacity  and  feeling, 
quick  if  not  deep,  and  sparkles  along  in  talk 
very  pleasantly. 

I  am  boarding  in  town  for  the  winter  in  an 
excellent  house  in  Warren  Street  for  the  present. 
I  find  it  a  most  agreeable  change  in  point  of 
order  and  comfort.  The  people  in  the  house  are 
such,  as  you,  I  suppose,  have  seen  constantly, 
I  scarce  ever  at  all — men  of  business  who  seem 
like  perfect  machines.  No  wonder  they  wearied 
you  to  death!  I  see  but  little  of  them  however, 
only  at  the  table. 

I  devote  myself  a  great  deal  to  the  paper,  as 
I  am  more  and  more  interested  by  the  generous 
course  of  Mr.  Greeley  and  am  desirous  to  make 


172 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLVII 


my  own  position  important  and  useful.  As  I 
shall  find  no  longer  a  home  in  the  house  of  Mr. 
Greeley  except  for  a  brief  space  in  the  spring, 
I  must  therefore  live  at  much  greater  expense,  if 
I  remain.  They  are  to  make  me  a  new  offer,  as 
soon  as  they  have  settled  up  their  affairs  this 
new  year.  Mr.  Greeley  said,  they  should  do  all 
they  possibly  could  for  me.  I  shall  remain  till 
September  at  any  rate,  as  he  wishes  much  to  be 
at  liberty  during  the  summer. 

As  to  other  things,  now  I  am  in  town,  I  make 
many  acquaintance  and  see  many  amusing  peo 
ple  and  some  who  are  very  friendly  to  me,  but 
none  of  deep  interest.  I  feel  very  lonely,  some 
times  very  sad,  and  I  still  pine  for  you,  my 
friend,  and  that  home  of  soul,  where  you  used  to 
receive  me  and  strengthen  me  and  all  the  flowers 
that  grew  from  frequent  meeting. 

I  do  not,  indeed,  feel  separated  from  you ; 
your  silences  or  the  want  of  personal  intercourse 
does  not  seem  to  have  that  effect  at  all.  When 
I  am  alone,  your  image  rises  before  me,  or  indeed 
in  the  presence  of  others  I  sometimes  am  suddenly 
lost  to  them,  and  seem  absorbed  by  this  commu 
nion.  But  I  do  not  feel  refreshed  or  invigorated 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  173 

enough  by  this — there  is  a  void,  and  I  can  only      LETTER 
commend  myself  to  the  care  of  Heaven. 

I  want  to  think  that  you  feel  the  need  of  me 
in  the  same  way  and  surely  you  must,  yet  I  do 
not  knowr  how  to  understand  some  things  in  your 
letter ;  it  was  as  if  you  said  "  do  not  think  it  is 
you  I  want  "  and  then  you  say  "  do  not  misun 
derstand  ; "  so  I  will  not  misunderstand,  and 
therefore  must  let  it  all  go,  but  that  is  difficult. 

I  feel  inclined  to  write  no  more  "  unless  we 
can  have  a  real  correspondence."  What  is  the 
use  of  any  other?  I  feel  sick  and  my  head  aches 
at  this  moment.  Do  try  to  have  things  better. 
I  beg  you  by  that  time  when  I  left  off  taking  care 
of  myself  and  put  it  all  into  your  care  in  holy 
keeping.  You  then  gave  me  the  veil,  and  when 
ever  I  look  at  it,  it  seems  like  peace  and  that  thou 
must  bring  it  to  me. 

I  suffer  writing  this  letter;  when  it  is  gone, 
I  may  receive  one  that  may  make  me  feel  so 
differently.  I  cannot  help  feeling  jealous  of 
you,  knowing  your  nature,  knowing  you  went 
away  on  your  wanderings  seeking  new  impres 
sions.  I  never  did,  and  never  shall  feel  happy 
any  way  but  in  answering  you.  When  you  draw 


174  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER      me,  I  like  to  come.    I  do  not  like  to  come  of  my 

XLVII 

own  accord. 

You  are  now  to  be  among  your  kindred.  I  do 
hope  you  will  find  joy  in  it,  and  that  it  may  be 
possible  to  take  up  the  ties,  as  if  all  these  years 
had  not  passed  between.  May  you  be  happy 
with  mother  and  brethren ;  your  sisters  by  blood 
I  cannot  permit  to  take  the  place  of  your  sister 
of  your  soul. 

I  want  you  to  write  me  how  they  all  strike 
you,  but  do  not,  loved  friend,  speak  to  them  of 
me,  except  outwardly,  as  you  have  to  Mr.  Delf 
and  others.  I  want  the  mysterious  tie  that  binds 
us  to  remain  unprofaned  forever  and  that  if 
in  this  cruel  fatal  sphere  we  are  in,  we  have  to 
bury  the  sweet  form  of  the  Past,  that  we  should 
do  it  quite  alone,  we  the  only  ones  that  could 
appreciate  its  budding  charms,  how  lovely  it  was, 
and  of  capacity  how  glorious.  Then  we  would 
weep  together  and  part,  and  go  our  several  ways 
alone;  but  we  would  tell  no  man.  Promise 
me  this. 

This  is  the  last  day  of  the  year  in  which  I 
have  known  you.  It  is  just  a  year  since  we 
met.  May  our  Father  bless  you  and  give  to 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  175 

your  other  years  joys,  hopes  and  sorrows  no  less      LETTER 
pure  than   these  have  been.      Oh  may  he  add 
tranquility  and  fruition.     Do  you  bless  me  when 
you  receive  this  and  bend  your  mind  to  have  me 
feel  it. 

Mrs.  Greeley  has  been  in  a  sad  state  of  mind 
and  body,  but  seems  a  little  better  now.  Her 
boy  is  beautiful,  the  picture  of  health  and  gai 
ety.  Shall  I  send  you  at  Hamburg  the  copies 
of  the  Tribune,  containing  your  letters?  how 
many?  and  how?  Did  you  know  my  book  on 
Woman,  etc.,  had  been  republished  in  England? 


February  %8th,  1845.          LETTER 

XLVIII 

Evening  by  my  bright  fire  in  the 
prettiest  little  room  imaginable  which  I 
tenant  for  the  present  in  Amity  Place. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

Last  month  brought  me  a  letter  which  repaid 
for  long  waiting,  your  letter  from  Rome,  full  of 
soul  and  sweetness  as  ever  was  yourself  in  the 
best  hours  of  our  life  together  last  spring. 

How  I  do  wish  I  could  answer  to  it  as  I 
ought,  as  I  would,  but  unhappily  this  last  day 


i76 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLVIII 


before  preparing  for  the  March  steamer  has 
brought  me  one  of  my  bad  headaches,  of  which 
I  have  not  before  had  one  for  some  time,  and  I 
feel  paralyzed,  not  myself.  I  think,  however, 
you  may  prefer  having  such  a  letter  as  I  can  write 
to  none  at  all. 

I  feel  hope  that  you  may  by  this  time  be  at 
home  with  mother  and  brethren  and  that  the 
next  steamer  may  bring  me  a  leaf  to  tell  of  your 
pilgrimage,  and  how  the  home  of  your  child 
hood  looks  after  it,  and  after  the  long  separation. 
I  feel  as  if  it  might  be  a  sad  survey,  the  changes 
must  have  been  so  very  great;  but  I  want  to 
hear  all. 

I  hope  to  have  this  part,  before  you  can 
receive  this,  but  when  you  do,  write  quick  in 
reply,  and  tell  me  of  your  plans.  When  do  you 
return  to  the  United  States?  A  plan  which  I 
mentioned  to  }rou  in  an  earlier  letter  is  now 
matured  and  if  nothing  unexpected  intervenes, 
I  shall  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spring  leave  here  for 
England  by  the  middle  of  August.  We  are  going 
also  to  Germany,  France  and  Italy.  I  expect 
to  stay  a  year;  they  may  travel  longer.  Shall 
I  not  see  you  all  that  time  ?  Shall  you  not  return 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  177 

here  before  I  go,  or  if  not  shall  we  not  meet  in      LETTER 
some  place  the  other  side  of  the  water  ? 

I  rather  think  the  latter  by  your  sending  for 
Josey.  Answer  decisively  whether  you  will  have 
him  sent  the  1st  May.  The  Greeleys  break  up 
from  our  dear  old  place  then.  Mrs.  Greeley  will 
have  no  objection  to  parting  with  him. 

I  have  paid  dear  for  your  love.  Let  it  be 
immortal,  and  if  we  meet  no  more,  let  it  shine 
on  me  from  the  distance  with  a  steady  and 
cheering  ray.  It  was  pure  and  fresh  as  the 
blossoms  amid  which  it  grew,  and  if  it  never 
cornes  to  fruit,  let  it,  at  least,  forever  bloom  as 
they  in  memory. 

Yes,  do  write  to  Mrs.  Greeley  a  good  and  full 
letter,  but  do  not,  I  counsel  you,  speak  of  her 
coming  to  Germany.  But  write  as  a  friend. 
Her  child  is  one  of  the  finest  imaginable.  I  love 
him  much  and  he  me  no  less. 

I  send  through  Mr.  Benson,  Tribunes  con 
taining  your  letters ;  the  last  describing  ancient 
Rome  I  did  not  publish.  Every  object  in  the 
Eternal  City  is  too  familiar  to  the  reading  pub 
lic.  I  wish  you  had  sent,  instead,  the  letter  on 
modern  Rome,  for  your  observations  on  what  you 

13 


178  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  personally  meet  are  always  original  and  interest 
ing.  I  hope  you  will  write  yourself  out  in  let 
ters  on  Egypt  and  Palestine  and  not  describe  ob 
jects  which,  there  also,  have  already  been  de 
scribed  many  times. 

Yourself,  yourself. 

The  rose  from  Shelley's  grave  would  have 
been  dear  to  me,  but  somehow  in  opening  the 
letter  I  lost  the  rose  and  when  I  had  finished 
could  find  only  the  green  leaves.  Is  not  that 
rather  sad? 

Your  picture  I  shall  see  abroad,  if  not  your 
self. 

I  have  been  in  town  ever  since  1st  January 
when  I  wrote  to  you.  I  have  had  an  outwardly 
gay  and  busy  life,  made  many  new  acquaintance 
and  two  or  three  friends.  Among  these  number 
two  men  of  heroic  blood,  Cassius  Clay  who  was 
here  on  Jan.  7th  and  Harro  Harring,  the  Dane, 
a  stormy  nature  but  full  and  rich  and  with  a  child 
like  sweetness  in  him  at  times,  when  the  vexed 
waves  recede. 

All  the  little  demons  warn  me,  not  to  send 
this  letter.  First  the  headache,  then  I  have 
dropped  ink  upon  it,  then  let  it  go  against  the 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  179 

candle.     But  if  thou  be  minded  towards  me  as      LETTER 
in  thy  last,  all  these  threats  will  go  for  nothing ; 
thou  wilt  take  it  in  good  part  and  turn  the  soiled 
and  blotted  leaves  to  precious  purpose. 

Unless  I  hear  from  you  again,  I  shall  not 
write  by  steamer  of  1st  April.  I  want  to  know 
first  that  you  are  at  home  and  how  you  are  feel 
ing.  I  want  too  that  you  should  receive  this. 
Nevertheless,  if  I  have  a  letter  from  you  in  March 
that  draws  an  answer,  it  will  come  in  April.  I 
shall  now  be  overwhelmed  with  things  to  do  for 
a  while.  I  am  to  bring  out  my  Miscellanies  in 
two  volumes,  which  will  be  a  constant  care,  as 
they  claim  revisal  and  additions.  I  am  also  to 
keep  on  writing  for  the  Tribune  up  to  the  last. 
I  have  some  family  troubles  that  keep  obliging 
me  to  write  to  Massachusetts.  In  fine,  if  I  saw 
you,  I  could  say  much,  but  at  this  crisis  I  cannot 
get  repose  of  mind  for  it. 

When  you  receive  this,  breathe  a  prayer,  that 
I  may  be  sustained  and  aided  by  the  Angels,  for 
just  now  I  need  aid.  On  you  my  blessings  always 
wait. 

P.  S.  I  have  a  few  days  since  a  note  from 
Mr.  Delf .  He  had  not  heard  from  you. 


180  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  Sunday,  April  25th,  '46. 


XLIX  T^  ^ 

DEAR  Jb  RIEND, 


Lost  too  soon,  too  long;  where  art  thou, 
where  wander  thy  steps  and  where  thy  mind 
this  day? 

This  day,  the  last  of  leisure,  I  shall  pass  in 
the  place  that  was  the  scene  of  our  meeting  when 
our  acquaintance  grew  with  the  advance  of 
spring,  knew  indeed  its  frequent  chills,  blights 
and  delays,  but  also  its  tender  graces,  its  young 
joys  and  at  last  its  flowers. 

This  place,  I  think,  will  always  be  lovely  in 
my  memory.  But  alas!  we  shall  meet  here  no 
more.  Strangers  to  us  will  haunt  the  rocks  and 
little  green  paths,  where  we  gave  one  another  so 
much  childish  happiness,  so  much  sacred  joy. 

Hast  thou  forgotten  any  of  these  things,  hast 
thou  ceased  to  cherish  me,  O  Israel ! 

I  have  felt,  these  last  four  days,  a  desire  for 
you  that  amounted  almost  to  anguish.  You  are 
so  interwoven  with  every  thought  of  this  place, 
it  seemed  as  if  I  could  not  leave  it,  till  wre  had 
walked  and  talked  here  once  more. 

This  is  such  a  day  as  came  last  year  after  our 
reconciliation,  when  the  trees  had  put  on  their  ex- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  181 

quisite  white  mantles  and  you  gave  me  the  white  LETTER 
veil.  That  evening  you  went  home  and  wrote 
me  the  sweet  little  letter,  in  which  you  likened 
yourself  to  the  cherry-tree  by  my  window.  The 
tree  has  again  decked  itself  with  blossoms  and  I 
see  it  in  its  best  loveliness  before  my  departure. 

But  thou  dost  not  return ;  could  you  but  be 
here  all  this  day,  only  one  day.  So  many  things 
have  happened,  such  a  crowd  of  objects  come  be 
tween  us !  Alas !  there  is  too  much  to  be  said  we 
cannot  say  rightly  in  letters. 

I  say  Alas !  and  Alas !  and  once  again  Alas ! 

I  send  a  leaf  and  flower  of  the  myrtle  that 
grew  at  the  foot  of  the  rock,  of  which  I  gave  you 
some  the  day  wre  seemed  to  be  separated  for  ever. 
But  we  were  not. 

Where  are  you?  What  are  you  doing?  I 
have  not  heard  from  you  for  more  than  four 
months.  I  do  not  know  wrhether  you  passed  safe 
through  the  East,  I  do  not  know  whether  you 
have  ever  reached  your  home.  And  I  do  not 
know  what  has  been  or  is  in  your  mind.  How 
unnatural !  for  such  ignorance  and  darkness  to 
follow  on  such  close  communion,  such  cold 
eclipse  on  so  sweet  a  morning.  Is  it  the  will  of 


182 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


LETTER 
XLIX 


the  Angels?  Have  they  drawn  the  veil  between 
us  and  given  us  to  other  duties,  other  ties? 

We  leave  this  place  the  last  day  of  April. 
Mrs.  Greeley  goes  with  her  child  to  Brattleboro 
(Vermont),  for  the  summer.  I  have  taken  lodg 
ings  in  Brooklyn  near  the  Heights  for  the  sum 
mer  or  rather  till  the  1st  August,  when  I  expect 
to  go  to  England.  We  intend  to  go  in  the 
steamer  from  Boston  1st  August,  on  arriving  in 
England  to  travel  about,  see  Scotland  and  West 
moreland  and  be  in  London  in  September.  Then 
the  plan  is  to  go  to  Hamburg  and  from  there 
to  see  a  little  of  Germany.  Then,  on  the  last 
of  September  or  first  of  October,  if  you  are 
there,  I  shall  see  you  again,  at  least  for  an 
hour  or  two. 

But  do  write,  the  moment  you  receive  this,  if 
you  have  not  long  before,  and  tell  me  everything 
good  and  bad.  I  thought  surely  to  have  heard 
before  this,  if  only  to  know  what  to  do  about 
sending  you  Josey.  He  is  now  to  be  left,  I  don't 
know  how.  Mrs.  Greeley  has  seemed  more  kindly 
towards  him  of  late.  She  has  sometimes  even  fed 
him  herself.  He  is  strong  and  seems  tolerably 
well  now,  but  he  will  never  be  the  intelligent 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  183 

and    fine    creature    he    might,    if    you    had    not      LETTER 

,,,,,.  XLIX 

lett  him. 

Farewell !  for  to-day,  I  have  no  heart  to  write 
any  more. 

16th  May. 

Still  no  letter  from  you,  I  do  not  yet  know 
that  you  are  safe.  And  in  one  fortnight  it  will 
be  a  year,  since  you  went  away. 

The  spring  is  now  at  its  loveliest.  I  am  not, 
where  I  can  enjoy  its  loveliness  as  at  the  Farm, 
yet  am  happier,  for  I  have  a  home  now,  where 
peace,  order  and  kindness  prevail. 

Poor  Josey  remains  at  the  Farm.  I  suffer 
much  annoyance  by  continual  questions  from  Mr. 
Greeley  wrhether  I  have  not  heard  from  you,  so 
as  to  let  him  know  what  to  do  with  the  dog,  who 
remains  only  on  sufferance  with  the  new  occu 
pants  and  is  exposed  to  loss  or  injury. 

The  affairs  of  this  country  are  at  present  dis 
turbed  by  wars  and  rumours  of  wars.  Still  there 
seems  no  likelihood  as  yet  of  our  being  prevented 
from  going  to  Europe  the  1st  August.  We  ex 
pect  to  go  in  the  mail-steamer  from  Boston. 
Farewell.  Unless  I  hear  from  you  I  shall  not 


184  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  write  any  more.  If  I  do  not  hear  at  all,  I  shall 
feel  great  anxiety  and  shall  write  to  Mr.  Delf  to 
ascertain  whether  you  are  safe,  as  there  is  no  one 
here  that  can  inform  me. 

Wherever  and  however  you  are,  that  God  may 
bless  you  always  is  the  prayer  of 

MARGARET. 


LETTER  New  York,  IJ^ih  July,  18J+6. 

MY  FRIEND, 

I  have  been  absent  from  town  and  unable  to 
act  upon  your  request  of  getting  the  papers  to 
send  by  Messrs.  Appleton  to  Mr.  Delf  and  will 
1st  August  take  them  myself  and  send  them  on 
arriving  in  Liverpool  straight  to  Mr.  Delf  that 
he  may  send  them  to  you.  To-morrow  morning 
is  the  last  time  I  shall  have  before  the  steamer 
goes  and  I  probably  shall  not  be  able  to  go  to 
town  and  see  about  it,  having  imperative  engage 
ments.  I  have  hardly  a  minute  to  write  this  line, 
which  is  of  importance  for  you  to  receive. 

I  have  talked  with  Mr.  Greeley  about  the  nar 
rative  of  your  journey.  He  says  you  had  best 
make  it  brief  and  vivid  and  look  into  the  many 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  185 

books  of  travel  in  that  region  that  have  been  pub-  LETTER 
lished  lately,  so  as  to  repeat  no  information ;  that, 
if  you  have  it  written  out  fairly  and  sent  to  him, 
he  will  do  as  well  as  he  can  in  getting  it  pub 
lished  for  you,  but  could  not  expect  much  pecu 
niary  profit,  as  your  name  is  not  known  as  a 
writer. 

I  suggested  Noah's  Weekly  Messenger,  think 
ing  the  information  would  be  of  special  interest 
to  the  Jews,  but  Mr.  Greeley  said,  there  would 
be  no  pay  there. 

I  think  you  may  find  Mr.  Delf  could  get  it 
published  in  London  to  better  advantage  as  to 
money,  than  here,  where  the  reward  of  the  writer 
is  so  very  little.  But,  if  you  prefer  sending  to 
America,  I  should  think  Mr.  Greeley  could  and 
would  do  as  well  for  you  as  almost  any  one,  only 
no  doubt,  if  I  were  here,  I  might  put  more  zeal 
into  the  affair  than  a  mere  business  friend  would. 
I  am  sorry  on  that  account  to  be  gone.  Your 
old  acquaintance,  Mr.  Miller,  is  in  the  employ 
ment  of  Wiley  and  Putnam  ;  with  his  aid  and  thai 
of  Mr.  Delf  and  Mr.  Greeley  you  certainly  have 
a  very  fair  chance  for  one  who  is  served  by  men 
alone. 


1 86  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

LETTER  I  am  overwhelmed  with  things  to  be  done  in 

the  last  days.  We  go  in  the  Cambria  1st  August, 
and  I  to  Boston  for  a  few  days  previous,  to  bid 
farewell  to  my  family  and  friends.  After  arri 
ving  in  England  we  travel  a  while  and  shall  not 
be  in  London  till  early  in  September.  I  shall 
there  expect  to  hear  from  you  in  some  shape.  I 
shall  notify  Mr.  Delf  of  my  arrival. 

Mrs.  Greeley  I  have  seen  only  once  since  we 
left  the  Farm,  as  she  is  far  in  the  country.  She 
was  much  pleased  with  your  letter  and  I  was  very 
glad. 

15th,  morning. 

Interrupted  last  night  and  only  time  to  add 
a  word.  I  was  about  to  say  that  I  was  glad  you 
wrote  to  Mrs.  Greeley  and  repeated  your  invita 
tion  to  Germany.  She  cannot  accept  it,  being 
soon  to  become  a  mother,  but,  no  doubt,  it  would 
please  her  that  it  should  be  given. 

Adieu,  may  happiness  and  good  be  with  you. 
I  hope  to  find  a  good  letter  if  not  yourself  in 
London  early  in  September. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  187 


EDITORIAL    NOTES 

IN  the  Public  Library  of  Cambridge,  Mass., 
is  preserved  the  diary  which  Margaret  Fuller 
wrote  during  her  sojourn  in  England  in  1846. 
The  following  passage  obviously  makes  refer 
ence  to  this  romance: 

"  Leave  Edinburgh  on  Monday  morning, 
8th  (Sept.),  for  Perthshire.  Letter  containing 
virtual  reply  to  my  invitation  of  1st  Sept.  also 
dated  1st  Sept.  From  1st  June,  1845,  to  1st 
Sept.,  1846,  a  mighty  change  has  taken  place,  I 
ween.  I  understand  more  and  more  the  character 
of  the  tribes.  I  shall  write  a  sketch  of  it  and 
turn  the  whole  to  account  in  a  literary  way,  since 
the  affections  and  ideal  hopes  are  so  unpro 
ductive.  I  care  not.  I  am  resolved  to  take  such 
disappointments  more  lightly  than  I  have.  I 
ought  not  to  regret  having  thought  other  of 
'  humans  '  than  they  deserve." 


EDITO 
RIAL 

NOTES 


1 88  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

EDITO-  Along  with  the  foregoing  letters  of  Margaret 

Fuller,  there  has  come  to  the  publishers  of  this 

NOTES 

book  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  Nathan,  written 
in  October,  1846  (a  month  after  the  above),  by 
his  friend,  Mr.  F.  Delf .  Mr.  Delf  was  then  living 
in  London  as  the  agent  of  D.  Appleton  and  Com 
pany. 

London,  October  9,  1846. 
FRIEND  NATHAN, 

I  received  a  letter  from  you  some  two  or  three 
weeks  ago,  which  I  have  mislaid.  It  arrived  the 
same  day  I  received  one  from  Miss  Fuller,  at 
Edinburgh,  to  which  I  replied  inclosing  yours. 
Miss  Fuller  has  since  arrived  in  London,  and  I 
truly  have  enjoyed  a  few  hours  in  her  society, 
which  exalt  her  in  my  estimation  more  than  any 
thing  I  have  hitherto  read  of  her  writings.  She 
intends  staying  here  some  three  weeks  longer, 
and  then  proceeds  to  Paris.  She  bade  me  to  say 
to  you,  when  I  wrote,  that  she  had  received  your 
letter,  but  was  too  much  involved  in  the  routine 
of  visiting  and  receiving  visitors  to  allow  her 
mind  a  moment's  repose  to  reply  to  it. 

By  the  way,  I  often  ask  myself  how  stands 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  189 

your  friendship  with  her,  and  how  will  it  bear  EDITO- 
the  effects  of  your  contemplated  foreign  alli 
ance?  Is  she  prepared  for  such  a  condition  of 
affairs  ?  I  am  stimulated  to  ask  this  perhaps  im 
pertinent  question  from  the  warmth  with  which 
she  speaks  of  your  friendship,  which,  by  the  way, 
may  be  too  cold  a  name  for  her  feeling;  but  of 
this  I  must  not  judge  until  I  know  her  better,  for 
perhaps  I  misinterpret  her  natural  warmth  of 
feeling. 

Although  I  feel  the  imperative  duty  of  wri 
ting  to  you  to-day,  my  mind  is  so  distracted  by 
various  matters  that  I  cannot  collect  my  thoughts 
to  communicate  many  things  that  I  know  you  ex 
pect  from  me.  The  time  is  fast  drawing  on 
when  I  must  embark  for  the  United  States. 

One  of  the  young  Appletons  is  coming  to 
take  my  place  during  my  absence.  With  Joe 
matters  continue  in  stain  quo — neither  better  nor 
worse.  Miss  Fuller  asked  to  see  him,  in  order 
to  try  to  do  something  for  his  welfare,  but  I 
felt  it  my  duty  to  resist  her  inclination  in  this 
matter,  for  I  felt  sure  that  no  good  could 
come  of  it. 

Do  not  be  discouraged  by  my  abortive  at- 


19°  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

EDITO-       tempt  at  a  letter.     It  is  the  best  I  am  at  present 
capable  of,  but  write  me  on  the  receipt  of  this. 

I  am  yours  truly, 

F.  DELF. 

James  Nathan  was  born  on  the  9th  of  Febru 
ary,  1811,  in  Eutin,  Holstein,  Germany,  and  in 
1830  came  to  the  United  States,  where  he  was 
engaged  in  the  commission  business  until  1850. 
From  that  year  until  1862  he  was  in  the  bank 
ing  business  in  Wall  Street,  New  York.  He  then 
retired  and  went  to  Hamburg,  where  he  died 
in  1888,  on  the  5th  of  October.  By  act  of  Con 
gress  in  1855,  and  under  the  advice  of  Horace 
Greeley,  he  changed  his  name  to  Gotendorf, 
which  was  the  name  of  a  place  in  Holstein  that 
belonged  to  his  father. 


<£~     ^^cs       ^VC^^eX?x^-<--<^C 

-33?^  ^  x~~ 
x^o' 


^^     <0<?^^)        c*^c*7  -£^~C 
<*L^^s<Z      &. 


^-^**c. 


;     ^   tx^jg^ 


FACSIMILE  OF  ONE  PAGE  OF  MARGARET  FULLER'S  LETTERS. 
See  pages  15-16  for  the  same  in  print. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  193 


REMINIS 
CENCES 


REMINISCENCES 


14 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

'95 

REMINIS 

CENCES 

BY 

EMERSON 

BY    RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON1 

I  STILL  remember  the  half  hour  of  Margaret's 

conversation.    She  was  twenty-six  years  old.    She 

had  a  face  and  frame  that  would  indicate  fulness 

and  tenacity  of  life.     She  was  rather  under  the 

middle  height  ;  but  her  complexion  was  fair,  with 

strong  fair  hair.     She  was  then,  as  always,  care 

fully  and  becomingly  dressed,  and  of  ladylike 

self-possession.      For  the   rest,   her   appearance 

had  nothing  prepossessing.     Her  extreme  plain 

ness  —  a  trick  of  incessantly  opening  and  shut 

ting  her  eyelids,  the  nasal  tone  of  her  voice  —  all 

repelled,  and  I  said  to  myself  we  shall  never  get 

far.     It  is  to  be  said  that  Margaret  made  a  dis 

agreeable  first  impression  on  most  persons,  in 

cluding  those  who  became   afterward  her  best 

friends,  to  such  an  extreme  that  they  did  not 

1  From  Memoirs  of  Margaret  Fuller  (Ossoli),  by  Ralph 

Waldo  Emerson  and  others. 

196 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
EMERSON 


wish  to  be  in  the  same  room  with  her.  This  was 
partly  the  effect  of  her  manners,  which  expressed 
an  overweening  sense  of  power  and  slight  esteem 
for  others,  and  partly  the  prejudice  of  her  fame. 
She  had  a  dangerous  reputation  for  satire,  in  ad 
dition  to  her  great  scholarship.  The  men  thought 
she  carried  too  many  guns,  and  the  women  did 
not  like  one  who  despised  them.  I  believe  I 
fancied  her  too  much  interested  in  personal  his 
tory;  and  her  talk  was  a  comedy  in  which  dra 
matic  justice  was  done  to  everybody's  foibles. 
I  remember  that  she  made  me  laugh  more  than 
I  liked ;  for  I  was  at  that  time  an  eager  scholar 
of  ethics,  and  had  tasted  the  sweets  of  solitude 
and  stoicism,  and  I  found  something  profane  in 
the  hours  of  amusing  gossip  into  which  she  drew 
me,  and,  when  I  returned  to  my  library,  had 
much  to  think  of  the  cracking  of  thorns  under 
a  pot.  Margaret,  who  had  stuffed  me  out  as  a 
philosopher  in  her  own  fancy,  was  too  intent 
on  establishing  a  good  footing  between  us  to 
omit  any  art  of  winning.  She  studied  my  tastes, 
piqued  and  amused  me,  challenged  frankness  by 
frankness,  and  did  not  conceal  the  good  opinion 
of  me  she  brought  with  her,  nor  her  wish  to  please. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


197 


She  was  curious  to  know  my  opinions  and  ex 
periences.  Of  course,  it  was  impossible  long  to 
hold  out  against  such  urgent  assault.  She  had 
an  incredible  variety  of  anecdotes,  and  the  readi 
est  wit  to  give  an  absurd  turn  to  whatever  passed ; 
and  her  eyes,  which  were  so  plain  at  first,  soon 
swam  with  fun  and  drolleries,  and  the  very  tides 
of  joy  and  superabundant  life. 

This  rumour  was  much  spread  abroad  that 
she  was  sneering,  scoffing,  critical,  disdainful  of 
humble  people,  and  of  all  but  the  intellectual. 
I  had  heard  it  whenever  she  was  named.  It  was 
a  superficial  judgment.  Her  satire  was  only 
the  pastime  and  necessity  of  her  talent,  the  play 
of  superabundant  animal  spirits.  .  .  . 

When  she  came  to  Concord  she  was  already 
rich  in  friends,  rich  in  experiences,  rich  in  cul 
ture.  She  was  well  read  in  French,  Italian,  and 
German  literature.  She  had  learned  Latin  and 
a  little  Greek.  But  her  English  reading  was 
incomplete,  and  while  she  knew  Moliere  and 
Rousseau,  and  any  quantity  of  French  letters, 
memoirs  and  novels,  and  was  a  dear  student  of 
Dante  and  Petrarch,  and  knew  German  books 
more  cordially  than  any  other  person,  she  was 


REMINIS 
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BY 
EMERSON 


198 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
EMERSON 


little  read  in  Shakespeare ;  and  I  believe  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  making  her  acquainted  with 
Chaucer,  with  Ben  Jonson,  with  Herbert,  Chap 
man,  Ford,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  with  Bacon, 
and  Sir  Thomas  Browne.  I  was  seven  years 
her  senior,  and  had  the  habit  of  idle  reading  in 
old  English  books,  and,  though  not  much  versed, 
yet  quite  enough  to  give  me  the  right  to  lead 
her.  She  fancied  that  her  sympathy  and  taste 
had  led  her  to  an  exclusive  culture  of  southern 
European  books. 

She  had  large  experiences.  She  had  been  a 
precocious  scholar  at  Dr.  Park's  school ;  good 
in  mathematics  and  languages.  Her  father, 
whom  she  had  recently  lost,  had  been  proud  of 
her,  and  petted  her.  She  had  drawn,  at  Cam 
bridge,  numbers  of  lively  young  men  about  her. 
She  had  had  a  circle  of  young  women  who  were 
devoted  to  her,  and  who  described  her  as  a  "  won 
der  of  intellect  who  had  yet  no  religion."  She  \ 
had  drawn  to  her  every  superior  young  man  or 
young  woman  she  had  met,  and  whole  romances 
of  life  and  love  had  been  confided,  counselled, 
thought,  and  lived  through,  in  her  cognizance 
and  sympathy. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


199 


These  histories  are  rapid,  so  that  she  had 


and  old  age  of  passion.  She  had,  besides,  select- 
ed  from  so  many  a  few  eminent  companions,  and 
already  felt  that  she  was  not  likely  to  see  any 
thing  more  beautiful  than  her  beauties,  anything 
more  powerful  and  generous  than  her  youths. 
She  had  found  out  her  own  secret  by  early  com 
parison,  and  knew  what  power  to  draw  confi 
dence,  what  necessity  to  lead  in  every  circle,  be 
longed  of  right  to  her.  Her  powers  were 
maturing,  and  nobler  sentiments  were  subliming 
the  first  heats  and  rude  experiments.  She  had 
outward  calmness  and  dignity.  She  had  come  to 
the  ambition  to  be  filled  with  all  nobleness.  .  .  . 
She  wore  this  circle  of  friends,  when  I  first 
knew  her,  as  a  necklace  of  diamonds  about  her 
neck.  They  were  so  much  to  each  other  that 
Margaret  seemed  to  represent  them  all,  and  to 
know  her  was  to  acquire  a  place  with  them.  The 
confidences  given  her  were  their  best,  and  she 
held  them  to  them.  She  was  an  active,  inspi 
ring  companion  and  correspondent,  and  all  the 
art,  the  thought,  and  the  nobleness  in  New  Eng 
land  seemed  at  that  moment  related  to  her,  and 


REMINIS- 


already  beheld  many  times  the  youth,  meridian,       " 


EMERSON 


200 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
EMERSON 


she  to  it.  She  was  everywhere  a  welcome  guest. 
The  houses  of  her  friends  in  town  and  country 
were  open  to  her,  and  every  hospitable  attention 
eagerly  offered.  Her  arrival  was  a  holiday,  and 
so  was  her  abode.  She  stayed  a  few  days,  often 
a  week,  more  seldom  a  month,  and  all  tasks  that 
could  be  suspended  were  put  aside  to  catch  the 
favourable  hour,  in  walking,  riding  or  boating, 
to  talk  with  this  joyful  guest,  who  brought  wit, 
anecdotes,  love-stories,  tragedies,  oracles  with  her, 
and,  with  her  broad  web  of  relations  to  so  many 
fine  friends,  seemed  like  the  queen  of  some  parlia 
ment  of  love,  who  carried  the  key  to  all  confi 
dences,  and  to  whom  every  question  had  been 
finally  referred. 

Persons  were  her  game,  especially  if  marked 
by  fortune  or  character  or  success — to  such  she 
was  sent.  She  addressed  them  with  a  hardihood 
— almost  a  haughty  assurance — queen-like.  In 
deed,  they  fell  in  her  way,  where  the  access  might 
have  seemed  difficult,  by  wonderful  casualties; 
and  the  inveterate  recluse,  the  coyest  maid,  the 
waywardest  poet,  made  no  resistance,  but  yielded 
at  discretion,  as  if  they  had  been  waiting  for  her, 
all  doors  to  this  imperious  dame.  She  disarmed 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


201 


the  suspicion  of  recluse  scholars  by  the  absence 
of  bookishness.  The  ease  with  which  she  entered 
into  conversation  made  them  forget  all  they  had 
heard  of  her ;  and  she  was  infinitely  less  interested 
in  literature  than  in  life.  They  saw  she  valued 
earnest  persons,  and  Dante,  Petrarch,  and 
Goethe,  because  they  thought  as  she  did,  and 
gratified  her  with  high  portraits,  which  she  was 
everywhere  seeking.  She  drew  her  companions 
to  surprising  confessions.  She  was  the  wedding- 
guest  to  whom  the  long-pent  story  must  be  told ; 
and  they  wrere  not  less  struck,  on  reflection,  at  the 
suddenness  of  the  friendship  which  had  estab 
lished  in  one  day  new  and  permanent  covenants. 
She  extorted  the  secret  of  life,  which  cannot  be 
told  without  setting  heart  and  mind  in  a  glow, 
and  thus  had  the  best  of  those  she  saw  whatever 
romance,  whatever  virtue,  whatever  impressive 
experience — this  came  to  her;  and  she  lived  in 
a  superior  circle,  for  they  suppressed  all  their 
commonplace  in  her  presence. 

She  was  perfectly  true  in  this  confidence. 
She  never  confounded  relations,  but  kept  a  hun 
dred  fine  threads  in  her  hand,  without  crossing 
or  entangling  any.)  An  entire  intimacy,  which 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
EMERSON 


2O2 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
EMERSON 


seemed  to  make  both  sharers  of  the  whole  horizon 
of  each  other's  and  of  all  truth,  did  not  yet  make 
her  false  to  any  other  friend ;  gave  no  title  to  the 
history  that  an  equal  trust  of  another  friend 
had  put  in  her  keeping.  In  this  reticence  was 
no  prudery  and  no  effort.  For  so  rich  her  mind 
that  she  never  was  tempted  to  treachery  by  the 
desire  of  entertaining.  The  day  was  never  long 
enough  to  exhaust  her  opulent  memory ;  and  I, 
who  knew  her  intimately  for  ten  years  (from/ 
July,  1836,  till  August,  1846,  when  she  sailed! 
for  Europe),  never  saw  her  without  surprise  ay 
her  new  powers.  .  .  . 

Her  talents  were  so  various  and  her  conversa 
tion  so  rich  and  entertaining  that  one  might  talk 
with  her  many  times  by  the  parlour  fire  before 
he  discovered  the  strength  which  served  as  foun 
dation  to  so  much  accomplishment  and  eloquence. 
But  concealed  under  flowers  and  music  was  the 
broadest  good  sense,  very  well  able  to  dispose  of 
all  this  pile  of  native  and  foreign  ornaments,  and 
quite  able  to  work  without  them.  She  could 
always  rally  on  this,  in  every  circumstance  and 
in  every  company,  and  find  herself  on  a  firm 
footing  of  equality  with  any  party  whatever, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


203 


and  make  herself  useful,  and,  if  need  be,  for-     REMINIS- 
. ,  T ,  CENCES 

midable.   .   .   . 

BY 

I  regret  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  give  EMERSON 
my  true  report  of  Margaret's  conversation.  She 
soon  became  an  established  friend  and  frequent 
inmate  of  our  house,  and  continued  thenceforth 
for  years,  to  come  once  in  three  or  four  months 
to  spend  a  week  or  a  fortnight  with  us.  She 
adopted  all  the  people  and  all  the  interests  she 
found  here.  Your  people  shall  be  my  people, 
and  yonder  darling  boy  I  shall  cherish  as  my  own. 
Her  ready  sympathies  endeared  her  to  my  wife 
and  my  mother,  each  of  whom  highly  esteemed 
her  good  sense  and  sincerity.  She  suited  each 
and  all.  Yet  she  was  not  a  person  to  be  sus 
pected  of  complaisance,  and  her  attachments  one 
might  say  were  chemical. 

She  had  so  many  tasks  of  her  own  that  she 
was  a  very  easy  guest  to  entertain,  as  she  could 
be  left  to  herself  day  after  day  without  apology. 
According  to  our  usual  habit,  we  seldom  met  in 
the  forenoon.  After  dinner  we  read  something 
together,  or  walked  or  rode.  In  the  evening  she 
came  to  the  library,  and  many  and  many  a  con 
versation  was  there  held  whose  details  if  they 


204  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

REMINIS-     could  be  preserved  would  justify  all  encomiums. 
They   interested   me   in   every   manner — talent, 


BY 


EMERSON  memory,  wit,  stern  introspection,  poetic  play, 
religion,  the  finest  personal  feeling,  the  aspects 
of  the  future — each  followed  each  in  full  activ 
ity,  and  left  me,  I  remember,  enriched  and  some 
times  astonished  by  the  gifts  of  my  guest.  Her 
topics  were  numerous,  but  the  cardinal  points  of 
poetry,  love,  and  religion  were  never  far  off. 
She  was  a  student  of  art,  and,  though  untravelled, 
knew  much  better  than  most  persons  who  had  been 
abroad  the  conventional  reputation  of  each  of  the 
masters.  She  was  familiar  with  all  the  field  of 
elegant  criticism  in  literature.  Among  the  prob 
lems  of  the  day,  these  two  attracted  her  chiefly: 
mythology  and  demonology;  then,  also,  French 
socialism,  especially  as  it  concerned  women ;  the 
whole  prolific  family  of  reforms,  and,  of  course, 
the  genius  and  career  of  each  remarkable 
person.  .  .  . 

I  said  that  Margaret  had  a  broad,  good  sense, 
which  brought  her  near  to  all  people.  I  am  to 
say  that  she  had  also  a  strong  temperament, 
which  is  that  counter-force  which  makes  individ 
uality  by  driving  all  the  powers  in  the  direction 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  205 

of  the  ruling  thought  or  feeling,  and,  when  it  is  REMINIS- 
allowed  full  sway,  isolating  them.  These  two 
tendencies  were  always  invading  each  other,  and  EMERSON 
now  one  and  now  the  other  carried  the  day.  This 
alternation  perplexes  the  biographer,  as  it  did 
the  observer.  We  contradict  on  the  second  page 
what  we  affirm  on  the  first,  and  I  remember  how 
often  I  was  compelled  to  correct  my  impressions 
of  her  character  when  living;  for  after  I  had 
settled  it  once  for  all  that  she  wanted  this  or  that 
perception,  at  our  next  interview  she  would  say 
with  emphasis  the  very  word. 

I  think,  in  her  case,  there  was  something  ab 
normal  in  those  obscure  habits  and  necessities 
which  we  denote  by  the  word  temperament.  In 
the  first  days  of  our  acquaintance  I  felt  her  to 
be  a  foreigner,  that,  with  her,  one  would  always 
be  sensible  of  some  barrier,  as  if  in  making  up  a 
friendship  with  a  cultivated  Spaniard  or  Turk. 
She  had  a  strong  constitution,  and,  of  course, 
its  reactions  were  strong;  and  this  the  reason 
why  in  all  her  life  she  has  so  much  to  say  of 
her  fate.  She  was  in  jubilant  spirits  in  the 
morning,  and  ended  the  day  with  nervous  head 
ache,  whose  spasms,  my  wife  told  me,  produced 


206 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
EMERSON 


total  prostration.  She  had  great  energy  of 
speech  and  action,  and  seemed  formed  for  high 
emergencies.  .  .  . 

She  was  all  her  lifetime  the  victim  of  disease 
and  pain.  She  read  and  wrote  in  bed,  and  be 
lieved  that  she  could  understand  anything  better 
when  she  was  ill.  Pain  acted  like  a  girdle,  to 
give  tension  to  her  powers.  A  lady  who  was  with 
her  one  day  during  a  terrible  attack  of  nervous 
headache,  which  made  Margaret  totally  helpless, 
assured  me  that  Margaret  was  yet  in  the  finest 
vein  of  humour,  and  kept  those  who  were  assist 
ing  her  in  a  strange,  painful  excitement,  between 
laughing  and  crying,  by  perpetual  brilliant  sal 
lies.  There  were  other  peculiarities  of  habit  and 
power.  When  she  turned  her  head  on  one  side, 
she  alleged  she  had  second  sight,  like  St.  Fran 
cis.  These  traits  or  predispositions  made  her  a 
willing  listener  to  all  the  uncertain  science  of 
mesmerism  and  its  goblin  brood,  which  have  been 
rife  in  recent  years.  .  .  . 

I  have  inquired  diligently  of  those  who  saw 
her  often,  and  in  different  companies  concerning 
her  habitual  tone,  and  something  like  this  is  the 
report:  In  conversation,  Margaret  seldom,  ex- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


207 


cept  as  a  special  grace,  admitted  others  upon 
an  equal  ground  with  herself.  She  was  exceed 
ingly  tender  when  she  pleased  to  be,  and  most 
cherishing  in  her  influence ;  but  to  elicit  this  ten 
derness,  it  was  necessary  to  submit  first  to  her 
personally.  When  a  person  was  overwhelmed 
by  her,  and  answered  not  a  word  except  "  Mar 
garet,  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner,"  then  her  love 
and  tenderness  would  come  like  a  seraph's,  and 
often  an  acknowledgment  that  she  had  been  too 
harsh,  and  even  a  craving  for  pardon,  with  a 
humility — which,  perhaps,  she  caught  from  the 
other.  But  her  instinct  was  not  humility — that 
was  always  an  afterthought. 

This  arrogant  tone  of  her  conversation,  if 
it  came  to  be  the  subject  of  comment,  of  course, 
she  defended,  and  with  such  broad  good-nature, 
and  on  grounds  of  simple  truth,  as  were  not  easy 
to  set  aside. 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
EMERSON 


208 

Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

REMINIS 

CENCES 

BY 

GREELEY 

BY    HORACE    GREELEY1 

MY  wife,  having  spent  much  time  in  and  near 

Boston,  had  there  made  Margaret's   acquaint 

ance,  attended  her  conversations,  accepted  her 

leading  ideas;  and,  desiring  to  enjoy  her  society 

more  intimately  and  continuously,  Mrs.  Greeley 

planned  and  partly  negotiated  an  arrangement 

whereby  her  monitor  and  friend  became  an  in 

mate  of  our  family  and  a  writer  for  the  Tribune. 

Up  to  the  close  of  the  Presidential  canvass 

in  1844,  1  had  lived  thirteen  years  in  New  York, 

and  never  half  a  mile  from  the  City  Hall  —  usu 

ally  within   sixty  rods  of  it.      The  newspaper 

business    requiring    close    attention,    and    being 

wholly  prosecuted  "  down  town  "  it  seemed,  when 

I  once  ventured  to  live  up  so  far  as  Broome 

Street,  that  I  had  strayed  to  an  inconvenient  dis- 

1  From  Greeley's  Recollections  of  a  Busy  Life,  by  per 

mission  of  the  heirs  of  Ida  Greeley  Smith. 

Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  209 

tance  from  my  work ;  but  when  the  great  struggle    REMINIS- 
was  over,  and  I  the  worst  beaten  man  on  the 

BY 

continent — worn  out  by  incessant  anxiety  and  GREELEY 
effort,  covered  with  boils,  and  thoroughly  used 
up — I  took  a  long  stride  landward,  removing  to 
a  spacious  old  wooden  house,  built  as  a  country 
or  summer  residence  by  Isaac  Lawrence,  formerly 
president  of  the  United  States  Branch  Bank, 
but  which,  since  his  death,  had  been  neglected 
and  suffered  to  decay.  It  was  located  on  eight 
acres  of  ground,  including  a  wooded  ravine,  or 
dell,  on  the  East  River,  at  Turtle  Bay,  nearly 
opposite  the  southernmost  point  of  Blackwell's 
Island,  amid  shade  and  fruit  trees,  abundant 
shrubbery,  ample  garden,  etc. ;  and,  though  now 
for  years  perforated  by  streets,  and  in  good  part 
covered  by  buildings,  was  then  so  secluded  as  to 
be  only  reached  by  a  narrow,  devious,  private 
lane,  exceedingly  dark  at  night  for  one  accus 
tomed  to  the  glare  of  gas-lamps  ;  the  nearest  high 
way  being  the  old  "  Boston  Road  "  at  Forty- 
ninth  Street ;  while  an  hourly  stage  on  the  Third 
Avenue,  just  beyond,  afforded  our  readiest  means 
of  transit  to  and  from  the  city  proper.  Ac 
customed  to  the  rumble  and  roar  of  carriages,  the 

15 


2IO 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


stillness  here  at  night  seemed  at  first  so  sepul 
chral,  unearthly,  that  I  found  difficulty  in  sleep 
ing.  Of  the  place  itself,  Margaret — who  be 
came  one  of  our  household  soon  after  we  took 
possession — wrote  thus  to  a  friend: 

"  This  place  is,  to  me,  entirely  charming ; 
it  is  so  completely  in  the  country,  and  all  around 
is  so  bold  and  free.  It  is  two  miles  or  more  from 
the  thickly  settled  parts  of  New  York,  but  omni 
buses  and  cars  give  me  constant  access  to  the  city  ; 
and,  while  I  can  readily  see  what  and  whom  I  will, 
I  can  command  time  and  retirement.  Stopping 
on  the  Harlem  Road,  you  enter  a  lane  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  long,  and  going  by  a  small 
brook  and  pond  that  lock  in  the  place  and 
ascending  a  slightly  rising  ground,  get  sight  of 
the  house,  which,  old-fashioned  and  of  mellow 
tint,  fronts  on  a  flower-garden  filled  with  shrubs, 
large  vines,  and  trim  box  borders.  On  both  sides 
of  the  house  are  beautiful  trees,  standing  fair, 
full-grown,  and  clear.  Passing  through  a  wide 
hall  you  come  out  upon  a  piazza  stretching  the 
whole  length  of  the  house,  where  one  can  walk 
in  all  weathers ;  and  thence,  by  a  step  or  two,  on 
a  lawn,  with  picturesque  masses  of  rocks,  shrubs, 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  2 1 1 

and  trees  overlooking  the  East  River.     Gravel-     REMINIS- 

paths  lead  by  several  turns  down  the  steep  bank 

to  the  water's  edge,  where,  round  the  rocky  point,     GREELEY 

a  small  bay  curves,  in  which  boats  are  lying, 

and  owing  to  the  current  and  the  set  of  the  tide, 

the  sails  glide  sidelong,  seeming  to   greet  the 

house  as  they  sweep  by.     The  beauty  here,  seen 

by  moonlight,  is  truly  transporting.     I  enjoy 

it  greatly,  and  the  genus  loci  receives  me  as  to 

a  home." 

The  first  impressions  made  by  Margaret,  even 
on  those  who  soon  learned  to  admire  her  most, 
were  not  favourable;  and  it  was  decidedly  so  in 
my  case.  A  sufferer  myself,  and  at  times  scarcely 
able  to  ride  to  and  from  the  office,  I  yet  did  a 
day's  work  each  day,  regardless  of  nerves  or 
moods;  but  she  had  no  such  capacity  for  inces 
sant  labour.  If  quantity  only  were  considered, 
I  could  easily  write  ten  columns  to  her  one;  in 
deed,  she  would  only  write  at  all  when  in  the 
vein ;  and  her  headaches  and  other  infirmities 
often  precluded  all  labour  for  days.  Meantime, 
perhaps,  the  interest  of  the  theme  had  evapo 
rated,  or  the  book  to  be  reviewed  had  the  bloom 
brushed  from  its  cheek  by  some  rival  journal. 


212 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


Attendance  and  care  were  very  needful  to  her; 
she  would  evidently  have  been  happier  amid 
other  and  more  abundant  furniture  than  graced 
our  dwelling ;  and,  while  nothing  was  said,  I  felt 
that  a  richer  and  more  generous  diet  than  ours 
would  have  been  more  accordant  with  her  tastes 
and  wishes.  Then  I  had  a  notion  that  strong- 
minded  women  should  be  above  the  weakness  of 
fearing  to  go  anywhere,  at  any  time,  alone — that 
the  sex  would  have  to  emancipate  itself  from 
thraldom  to  etiquette  and  the  need  of  a  mascu 
line  arm  in  crossing  the  street  or  a  room  before 
it  could  expect  to  fight  its  way  to  the  bar,  the 
bench,  the  jury-box,  and  the  polls.  Nor  was  I 
wholly  exempt  from  the  vulgar  prejudice  against 
female  claimants  of  functions  hitherto  devolved 
only  on  men,  as  mistaking  the  source  of  their  dis 
satisfaction.  .  .  . 

I  very  soon  noted,  even  before  I  was  prepared 
to  ratify  their  judgment,  that  the  women  who 
visited  us  to  make  or  improve  her  acquaintance 
seemed  instinctively  to  recognise  and  defer  to  her 
as  their  superior  in  thought  and  culture.  Some 
who  were  her  seniors,  and  whose  writings  had 
achieved  a  far  wider  and  more  profitable  popu- 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  213 

larity  than  hers,  were  eager  to  sit  at  her  feet,     REMINIS- 
and  to  listen  to  her  casual  utterances  as  to  those 

BY 

of  an  oracle.  Yet  there  was  no  assumption  of  GREELEY 
precedence,  no  exaction  of  deference,  on  her 
part ;  for,  though  somewhat  stately  and  reserved 
in  the  presence  of  strangers,  no  one  "  thawed 
out  "  more  completely,  or  was  more  unstarched 
and  cordial  in  manner  when  surrounded  by  her 
friends.  Her  magnetic  sway  over  these  was  mar 
vellous,  unaccountable;  women  who  had  known 
her  but  a  day  revealed  to  her  the  most  jealously 
guarded  secrets  of  their  lives,  seeking  her  sym 
pathy  and  counsel  thereunto,  and  were  them 
selves  annoyed  at  having  done  so  when  the  mag 
netism  of  her  presence  was  withdrawn.  I  judge 
that  she  was  the  repository  of  more  confidences 
than  any  contemporary ;  and  I  am  sure  no  one 
had  ever  reason  to  regret  the  imprudent  precipi 
tancy  of  their  trust.  Nor  were  these  revelations 
made  by  those  only  of  her  own  plane  of  life,  but 
chambermaids  and  seamstresses  unburdened  their 
souls  to  her,  seeking  and  receiving  her  counsel ; 
while  children  found  her  a  delightful  playmate 
and  a  capital  friend.  My  son  Arthur  (otherwise 
"  Pickie  "),  who  was  but  eight  months  old  when 


214 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


she  came  to  us,  learned  to  walk  and  to  talk  in 
her  society,  and  to  love  and  admire  her  as  few  but 
nearest  relatives  are  loved  and  admired  by  a 
child.  For,  as  the  elephant's  trunk  serves  either 
to  rend  a  limb  from  the  oak,  or  to  pick  up  a  pin, 
so  her  wonderful  range  of  capacities,  of  experi 
ences,  of  sympathies,  seemed  adapted  to  every 
condition  and  phase  of  humanity.  She  had  mar 
vellous  powers  of  personation  and  mimicry,  and, 
had  she  condescended  to  appear  before  the  foot 
lights,  would  have  soon  been  recognised  as  the 
first  actress  of  the  nineteenth  century.  For  every 
effort  to  limit  vice,  ignorance,  and  misery  she 
had  a  ready  eager  ear,  and  a  willing  hand;  so 
that  her  charities — large  in  proportion  to  her 
slender  means — were  signally  enhanced  by  the 
fitness  and  fulness  of  her  wise  and  generous 
counsel,  the  readiness  and  emphasis  with  which 
she,  publicly  and  privately,  commended  to  those 
richer  than  herself  any  object  deserving  their 
alms.  She  had  once  attended,  with  other  noble 
women,  a  gathering  of  outcasts  of  their  sex ;  and, 
being  asked  how  they  appeared  to  her,  replied : 
"  As  women  like  myself,  save  that  they  are  vic 
tims  of  wrong  and  misfortune."  No  project  of 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


215 


moral  or  social  reform  ever  failed  to  command 
her  generous,  cheering  benediction,  even  when 
she  could  not  share  the  sanguine  hopes  of  its 
authors ;  she  trusted  that  these  might  somehow 
benefit  the  objects  of  their  self-sacrifice,  and  felt 
confident  that  they  must,  at  all  events,  be  blessed 
in  their  own  moral  natures.  I  doubt  that  our 
various  benevolent  and  reformatory  associations 
had  ever  before,  or  have  ever  since,  received  such 
wise,  discriminating  commendation  to  the  favour 
of  the  rich,  as  they  did  from  her  pen  during  her 
connection  with  the  Tribune.  .  .  . 

Though  ten  years  had  not  passed  since  her 
first  visit  to  Emerson,  at  Concord,  so  graphically 
narrated  by  him  in  a  reminiscence  wherefrom  I 
have  already  quoted,  care  and  suffering  had 
meantime  detracted  much  from  the  lightness  of 
her  step,  the  buoyancy  of  her  spirits.  If  in  any 
of  her  varying  moods  she  was  so  gay -hearted  and 
mirth-provoking  as  he  there  describes  her,  I  never 
happened  to  be  a  witness  \  but  then  I  was  never 
so  intimate  and  admired  a  friend  as  he  became 
at  an  early  day  and  remained  to  the  last.  Satir 
ical  she  could  still  be,  on  great  provocations ; 
but  she  rarely,  and,  I  judge,  reluctantly,  gave 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


2l6 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


evidence  of  her  eminent  power  to  rebuke  assump 
tion  or  meanness  by  caricaturing  or  intensifying 
their  unconscious  exhibition.  She  could  be  joy 
ous,  and  even  merry ;  but  her  usual  manner,  while 
with  us,  was  one  of  grave  thoughtfulness,  ab 
sorption  in  noble  deeds,  and  in  paramount  aspira 
tions  and  efforts  to  leave  some  narrow  corner  of 
the  world  somewhat  better  than  she  had  found 
it.  ... 

/  In  the  summer  of  1846 — modifying  but  not 
terminating  her  connection  with  the  Tribune — 
Margaret  left  New  York  for  Boston,  and,  after 
a  parting  visit  to  her  relatives  and  early  friends, 
took  passage  thence  (August  1st)  for  Europe. 
As  I  last  saw  her  on  the  steamboat  that  bore  her 
hence,  I  might,  perhaps,  bid  her  adieu.  But  my 
recollections  of  her  do  not  cease  with  her  de 
parture  ;  and  I  feel  that  my  many  young  readers, 
whose  previous  acquaintance  with  her  was  but 
a  vague  tradition,  cannot  choose  that  she  be  thus 
abruptly  dismissed  from  these  reminiscences,  but 
will  prefer  to  hear  more  of  the  most  remarkable, 
and  in  some  respects  the  greatest,  woman  whom 
America  has  yet  known.  I  therefore  devote  some 
pages  to  her  subsequent  career,  only  regretting 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


217 


that  time  and  space  do  not  serve  to  render  that 
career  ampler  justice. 

Leaving  in  the  company  of  admiring,  devoted 
friends,  who  welcomed  her  to  the  intimacy  of 
their  family  circle,  and  writing  to  the  Tribune 
whenever  she  (too  seldom)  found  topics  of  inter 
est  that  did  not  trench  upon  her  deference  to  the 
sanctities  of  social  intercourse,  she  first  traversed 
Great  Britain,  meeting  with  and  conversing  with 
Wordsworth,  Joanna  Baillie,  DeQuincey,  Car- 
lyle,  Mazzini,  Dr.  Chalmers,  the  Howitts,  and 
many  other  celebrities — most  of  whom  have  since 
passed  away — thence  crossing  to  France,  where 
she  met  George  Sand,  Beranger,  La  Mennais, 
saw  Rachel  act,  and  listened  to  a  lecture  by 
Arago.  The  next  spring  (1847),  she,  with  her 
party,  sped  to  Italy,  coasting  to  Naples,  and 
thence  returning  leisurely  to  Rome,  where  Pius 
IX  had  just  been  made  Pope,  and  had  signalized 
his  accession  by  words  of  sympathy  and  cheer 
for  the  aspiration  to  freedom  of  down-trodden 
millions,  which  he  has  long  since  recanted,  but 
they  refused  to  forget. 

Passing  thence  to  Florence,  Bologna,  Ra 
venna,  to  Venice,  she  there  parted  with  the 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


2i 8  Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

REMINIS-     friends  who  had  thus  far  been  her  companions 
in  travel — they  crossing  the  Alps  on  their  home- 


BY 


GREELEY  ward  way,  while  she,  fully  identified  with  the 
newborn  hopes  of  Italy — had  decided  to  remain. 
After  hastily  visiting  Vicenza,  Verona,  Mantua, 
Brescia,  Milan,  the  lakes  Garda,  Maggiore,  and 
Como,  and  spending  a  few  days  in  southern 
Switzerland,  she  returned,  via  Milan  and  Flor- 
rence,  to  Rome,  august  "  city  of  the  soul,"  which 
she  had  chosen  for  her  future  home,  and  whence 
she  wrote  (December  20th)  to  her  friend  Emer 
son: 

"  I  find  how  true  was  the  hope  that  always 
drew  me  towards  Europe.  It  was  no  false  in 
stinct  that  said  I  might  here  find  an  atmosphere 
to  develop  me  in  ways  that  I  need.  Had  I  only 
come  ten  years  earlier.  Now  my  life  must  be  a 
failure,  so  much  strength  has  been  wasted  on 
abstractions,  which  only  came  because  I  grew  not 
on  the  right  soil." 

She  was  privately  married,  not  long  after  her 
return  to  Rome,  to  Giovanni  Angelo  Ossoli,  of 
a  noble  but  impoverished  Roman  family.  He 
had  caught  the  infection  of  liberal  principles 
from  the  air,  or  from  her,  his  three  brothers 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  2 1 9 

being,  as  he  had  been,  in  the  papal  service,  and  so     REMINIS- 
remaining  after  the  Pope  had  disappointed  the 


BY 


hopes  excited  by  his  first  words  and  acts  under  GREELEY 
the  tiara.  In  the  troublous  times  then  imminent, 
it  was  deemed  expedient  to  keep  their  marriage 
a  close  secret,  as  their  only  hope  in  securing  their 
share  of  the  patrimony  of  Ossoli's  recently  de 
ceased  father ;  and  she  spent  the  ensuing  summer 
at  the  little  mountain  village  of  Rieti,  where  her 
son  Angelo  was  born.  Returning  before  winter 
to  Rome,  she  became  at  once  a  trusted  counsellor 
of  Mazzini  during  the  brief  but  glorious  era  of 
the  republic ;  and,  when  the  city  was  invested  and 
besieged  by  a  French  army,  she  was  appointed 
director  of  a  hospital,  and  therein  found  a  sphere 
of  sad  but  earnest  and  beneficent  activity.  .  .  . 

Having  somewhat  regained  her  health  and 
calmness  at  Rieti,  she  journeyed  thence,  with  her 
husband  and  child,  by  Perugia  to  Florence, 
where  they  were  welcomed  and  cheered  by  the 
love  and  admiration  of  the  little  American  col 
ony,  and  by  the  few  British  Liberals  residing 
there — the  Brownings  prominent  among  them. 
Here  they  spent  the  ensuing  winter,  and  Mar 
garet  wrote  her  survey  of  the  grand  movement 


22O 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


for  Italian  liberty  and  unity,  which  had  mis 
carried  for  the  moment,  but  which  was  still  cher 
ished  in  millions  of  noble  hearts.  With  the  en 
suing  spring  came  urgent  messages  from  her 
native  land,  waking,  or  rather  strengthening,  her 
natural  longing  to  greet  once  more  the  dear  ones 
from  whom  she  had  now  been  four  years  parted ; 
and  on  the  17th  of  May,  1850,  they  embarked 
in  the  bark  Elizabeth,  Captain  Hasty,  at  Leg 
horn,  for  New  York,  which  they  hoped  to  reach 
within  sixty  days  at  farthest. 

Margaret's  correspondence  for  the  preceding 
month  is  darkened  with  apprehensions  and  sin 
ister  forebodings,  which  were  destined  to  be  fear 
fully  justified.  First,  Captain  Hasty  \vas  pros 
trated  when  a  few  days  on  his  voyage,  with  what 
proved  to  be  confluent  small-pox,  whereof  he  died, 
despite  his  wife's  tenderest  care,  and  his  body 
was  consigned  to  the  deep.  Then  Angelo,  Mar 
garet's  child,  was  attacked  by  the  terrible  dis 
ease,  and  his  life  barely  saved,  after  he  had  been 
for  days  utterly  blind  and  his  recovery  seemed 
hopeless.  So,  after  a  week's  detention  by  head 
winds  at  Gibraltar,  they  fared  on,  under  the 
mate's  guidance,  until  at  noon  on  July  15th,  in 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


221 


a  thick  fog  with  a  southeast  breeze,  they  reck 
oned  themselves  off  the  Jersey  coast,  and  headed 
northeast  for  the  bay  of  New  York,  which  they 
expected  to  enter  next  morning.  But  the  eve 
ning  brought  a  gale,  which  steadily  increased  to 
a  tempest,  before  which,  though  under  close- 
reefed  sails,  they  were  driven  with  a  rapidity  of 
which  they  were  unconscious,  until  about  four 
o'clock  the  next  morning  the  Elizabeth  struck 
heavily  on  Fire  Island  Beach,  off  the  south  coast 
of  Long  Island,  and  her  prow  was  driven  harder 
and  farther  into  the  sand,  while  her  freight  of 
marble  broke  through  her  keel,  and  her  stern 
was  gradually  hove  around  by  the  terrible  waves 
until  she  lay  broadside  to  their  thundering  sweep, 
her  deck  being  careened  towards  the  land,  the 
sea  making  a  clear  sweep  over  her  at  every  swell. 
.  .  .  But  Margaret  and  her  husband  refused 
to  be  saved  separately,  or  without  their  child; 
and  the  crew  were  directed  to  save  themselves, 
tthich  most  of  them  did.  Still,  some  remained  on 
the  wreck,  and  were  persuading  the  passengers 
to  trust  themselves  to  planks,  when,  at  3  p.  M., 
a  great  sea  struck  the  foremast,  together  with 
the  deck  and  all  upon  it.  Two  of  the  crew  saved 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


222 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 
GREELEY 


themselves  by  swimming ;  the  steward,  with  little 
Angelo  in  his  arms,  both  dead,  were  washed 
ashore  twenty  minutes  later;  but  of  Margaret 
and  her  husband  nothing  was  evermore  seen. 
Just  before  setting  out  on  this  fateful  voyage 
she  had  written  apprehensively  to  a  friend  at 
home: 

"  I  shall  embark  more  composedly  in  our 
merchant-ship,  praying  fervently,  indeed,  that 
it  may  not  be  my  lot  to  lose  my  boy  at  sea,  either 
by  unsolaced  illness,  or  amid  howling  waves ;  or, 
if  so,  that  Ossoli,  Angelo,  and  I  may  go  to 
gether,  and  that  the  anguish  may  be  brief." 

So  passed  away  the  loftiest,  bravest  soul 
that  has  yet  irradiated  the  form  of  an  American 
woman. 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 

223 

REMINIS 

CENCES 

BY 

CONG- 

DON 

BY    CHARLES    T.    CONGDON  1 

MARGARET  FULLER  (not  yet  a  marchioness, 

but  a  school-mistress)   lived  then  and  pursued 

her  noble  calling  nobly  in  Providence.     I  saw  her 

sometimes  in  company   and  heard  her  talk  —  it 

would  be  hardly  proper  to  say  converse,  for  no 

body  else  said  much  when  she  was  in  the  Delphic 

mood.      The    centre    of   a    circle    of    rapt    and 

devoted    admirers,    she    improvised    not    merely 

pamphlets,  but  thick  octavos  and  quartos.     Such 

an  astonishing  stream  of  language  never  came 

from  any  other  woman's  mouth.     "  She  brought 

with  her,"  said  Mr.  Emerson,  "  anecdotes,  love- 

stories,  tragedies,  oracles."     She  did  not  argue. 

I  think  she  had  a  way  of  treating  dissentients 

with  a  crisp  contempt  which  was  distinctly  femi 

nine.      She  had  no  taste  for  dialectics,   as  she 

1  From  Congdon's   Reminiscences   of  a  Journalist,  by 

permission  of  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

224 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 

CONG- 
DON 


took  care  to  inform  those  who  did  not  agree 
with  her.  She  considered  her  own  opinion  to  be 
conclusive,  and  a  little  resented  any  attempt  to 
change  it. 

Yet  there  wras  something  eminently  elevated 
in  her  demeanor,  for  it  was  that  of  a  woman 
swaying  all  around  her,  not  by  fascinating  man 
ner,  nor  yet  by  personal  beauty,  of  which  she 
had  none,  but  through  the  sheer  force  of  a  royal 
intellect.  There  were  peculiarities  in  her  ways 
and  carriage  which  were  not  agreeable — a  fash 
ion  of  moving  her  neck,  and  of  looking  at  her 
shoulders  as  if  she  admired  them — and  her  voice 
was  not  euphonious.  Mr.  Emerson  says  that 
personally  she  repelled  him  upon  first  acquaint 
ance  ;  but  I  was  so  astonished  and  spellbound 
by  her  eloquence,  by  such  discourse  as  I  had  never 
before  heard  from  a  woman,  and  have  never  heard 
from  a  woman  since,  that  I  sat  in  silence,  and, 
if  my  ears  had  been  fifty  instead  of  two,  I  should 
have  found  an  excellent  use  for  them.  I  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  I  comprehended  all  that  she 
said ;  I  had  not  read  the  philosophers  and  poets 
of  Germany  as  she  had ;  but  simply  to  listen  was 
enough,  without  cheap  understanding.  Some- 


DON 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  225 

thing  like  this  fascination  must  have  been  exer-     REMINIS- 
cised  by  Coleridge  over  the  listeners  who  gath 
ered  about  him  at  Highgate,   and  went  away       CONG- 
charmed  but  puzzled — delighted  they  knew  not 
why.     Was  it  a  pleasure  analogous  to  that  of 
music,  a  suggestion  too  delicate  for  analysis? 

While  writing  for  the  Tribune,  Miss  Fuller 
was,  for  a  while,  a  member  of  Mr.  Horace  Gree- 
ley's  family,  and  I  have  sometimes  thought  that 
the  table-talk  of  these  peculiar  persons  must  have 
been  at  once  instructive  and  amusing — instruct 
ive,  I  mean,  in  matter,  and  amusing  in  manner. 
Each  was  dogmatic  and  opinionative,  and  neither 
inclined  to  admit  error  or  mistake.  Each  held 
personal  convictions  in  high  reverence,  but  Miss 
Fuller  was  especially  disposed  to  resent  any  in 
terference  with  her  own  methods  of  thought  and 
action.  I  believe  that  Mr.  Greeley  has  himself 
put  upon  record  that  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  agree  with  his  guest  about  diet,  and  especially 
about  tea,  of  which  the  lady  was  fond.  He  was 
wont  to  attribute  her  breakfast  headaches  to  a 
consumption  over  night  of  that  noxious  bever 
age;  but  as  he  tells  us  amusingly,  she  soon  let 
him  know  unmistakably  that  no  discussion  of  her 

16 


226 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 

CONG- 
DON 


tastes  would  be  tolerated ;  and  he  was  too  gen 
tlemanly  to  say  a  word  even  of  the  deleterious 
effects  of  tea  after  that. 

There  was  a  habit  once,  which  fortunately 
is  not  now  so  common,  of  comparing  our  Ameri 
can  reputation  with  old  staple  fames.  This 
poet  was  like  Wordsworth;  Mr.  Emerson,  I  be 
lieve  was  the  American  Montaigne;  Miss  Fuller 
was  the  American  Do  Stael;  Mr.  Poe  was  the 
American  Hoffmann.  This  prattle  was  espe 
cially  silly  when  it  was  about  Miss  Fuller,  who 
was  no  more  like  De  Stael  than  she  was  like  Bet- 
tina,  with  whom  I  have  also  heard  her  paralleled. 
Schiller  wrote  to  Goethe  of  the  brilliant  French 
woman,  "  She  insists  upon  explaining  every 
thing."  I  am  sure  that  Miss  Margaret  did  not 
attempt  to  explain  anything,  for  that  would  have 
been  a  condescension  to  which  she  was  not  prone. 
Schiller  speaks  also  of  De  Stael's  "  horror  of 
the  Ideal  Philosophy,  which  she  thinks  leads  to 
the  mysterious  and  superstitious  " ;  there  was  no 
likeness  there,  nor  was  the  American  lady  like  the 
French,  "  passionate  and  rhetorical."  If  I  re 
member  rightly,  she  was  calm  in  her  speech, 
though  occasionally  swift;  but  she  had  a  talent 


Love-Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller  227 

for  summing  up  concisely,  as  when  she  said  of     REMINIS- 
Goethe :  "  I  think  he  had  the  artist's  hand  and      CE*CES 
the  artist's  eye,  but  not  the  artist's  love  of  struc-       CONG- 
ture."     This  compactness  sometimes  became  al 
most  comical,  as  when,  in  The  Dial,  she  dis 
missed  Mr.  Longfellow's  latest  work  with  only 
the  remark :  "  This  is  the  thinnest  of  all  Mr. 
Longfellow's  thin  volumes,"  which  was  hardly 
kind  and  scarcely  critical. 

It  is  remarkable  that  this  noteworthy  wom 
an's  fame  has  already  become  traditional;  she 
is  remembered  as  a  voluble  talker,  but  much  is 
not  said  of  her  books.  She  had  colloquial  habits 
of  composition,  and  was  rather  a  careless  writer. 
The  work  upon  which  she  had  bestowed  the  great 
est  pains  was  lost  with  her  in  the  remorseless 
sea;  her  literary  contributions  to  the  Tribune 
were  not  of  permanent  value.  It  was  her  task 
to  deal  mainly  with  the  temporary  and  evanes 
cent,  and  to  be  obliged  to  toil  too  much  from  day 
to  day ;  but  always,  in  American  literature,  she 
will  remain  a  remarkable  biographic  phenome 
non,  while  the  tragic  death  of  this  Lycidas  of 
women,  a  most  painful  personal  story  of  ship 
wreck,  was  intensified  by  so  many  melancholy 


228 


Love -Letters  of  Margaret  Fuller 


REMINIS 
CENCES 

BY 

CONG- 
DON 


incidents  that  whoever,  long  years  hence,  may 
read  them,  will  wonder  how  the  gods  could  have 
been  so  pitiless,  and  why  the  life  of  new  happi 
ness  and  larger  intellectual  achievement  which 
was  before  her  should  so  suddenly  have  ended 
upon  that  savage  and  inhospitable  shore. 


THE    END 


or  THE  y 

RSSTY  I 


FASCINATING  FRENCH  MEMOIRS* 

Recollections  of  the  Court  of  the  Tuileries. 

By  Mme.  CARETTE,  Lady  of  Honor  to  the  Empress 
Euge'nie.  Translated  from  the  French  by  Elizabeth 
Phipps  Train.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00  ;  paper,  50  cents. 

"  A  gossiping  and  very  interesting  account  of  the  Second  Empire.  The  narra 
tive  has  to  do  mainly  with  the  social  life  of  the  court,  and  yet  it  offers  many  a 
glimpse  of  the  larger  world  of  politics.  Its  sprightly  style,  us  keen  insight  into 
social  character,  and  its  bright  comments  on  men  and  events,  make  the  book  very 
readable."— Tht  Critic. 

u  The  many  surviving  Americans  who  were  presented  at  the  French  court  during 
the  last  empire,  and  are  still  fondly  cherishing  the  memory  of  things  as  they  were, 
will  be  delighted  with  this  little  book.  According  to  Mme.  Carette,  things  in  the 
days  of  the  third  Napoleon  were  about  as  they  should  be  in  France,  especially  at 
courtj  and  the  narrative  is  written  with  a  simplicity  and  sincerity  which  disarm 
criticism." — Ntw  York  Herald. 

Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Remusat,  1802-1808. 

Edited  by  her  Grandson,  PAUL  DE  REMUSAT,  Senator. 
i2mo.  Cloth,  $2.00. 

u  These  '  Memoirs'  are  not  only  a  repository  of  anecdotes  and  of  portraits  sketched 
from  life  by  a  keen-eyed,  quick-witted  woman  ;  some  of  the  author's  reflections 
on  social  and  political  questions  are  remarkable  for  weight  and  penetration."— 
New  York  Sun. 

"Notwithstanding  the  enormous  library  of  works  relating  to  Napoleon,  we  know 
of  none  which  cover  precisely  the  ground  of  these  'Memoirs.'  Mme.  de  Remusat 
was  not  only  lady  in  waiting  to  Josephine  during  the  eventful  years  1802-1808,  but 
was  her  intimate  friend  and  trusted  confidante.  Thus  we  get  a  view  of  the  daily 
life  of  Bonaparte  and  his  wife,  and  the  terms  on  which  .they  lived,  not  elsewhere  to 
be  found." — New  York  Mail. 

A   Selection   from  the   Letters  of  Madame   de 
Remusat,  1804-1814. 

Edited  by  her  Grandson,  PAUL  DE  REMUSAT,  Senator. 
i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  A  most  attractive  volume.  The  letters  will  be  read  by  those  who  have  perused 
the  '  Memoirs '  with  as  much  pleasure  as  by  those  who  in  them  make  the  writer  s 
acquaintance  for  the  first  time."—  Ntw  York  Herald. 

u  These  letters  have  the  character  of  intimate  correspondence,  and  though  they 
do  not  avoid  public  events,  are  not  devoted  to  them.  They  depict  the  social  aspect 

the  times,  and  .form 
ents  which  form  the 
author." — The  Indepenc 


do  not  avoid  public  events,  are  not  devoted  to  them.  They  depict  the  social  aspect 
of  the  times,  and  .form  an  excellent  background  against  which  to  review  the  public 
events  which  form  the  principal  subject  of  the  previous  'Memoirs  by  the  sam< 
tdent. 


O .     APPLETON    AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


THE  LIVES  OF  ROYALTIES. 


The  Private  Life  of  the  Sultan. 

By  GEORGES  DORYS,  son  of  the  late  Prince  of  Samos,  a  former  minister 
of  the  Sultan,  and  formerly  Governor  of  Crete.  Translated  by  Arthur 
Hornblow.  Uniform  with  "The  Private  Life  of  King  Edward  VII." 
Illustrated.  lamo.  Cloth,  $1.20  net ;  postage,  10  cents  additional. 

The  high  position  which  the  writer's  father  held  at  Constantinople  gave  the  son  a 
close  insight  into  the  personality  of  one  of  the  least  known  of  modern  rulers,  so  far 
as  personality  is  concerned.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  the  author  has  long  since 
left  the  domain  of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  and  he  is  now  a  member  of  the  Young  Turk 
party  and  a  resident  of  Paris.  It  is  announced  that  he  has  been  recently  condemned 
to  death  by  the  Sultan  on  account  of  this  book. 

The  Private  Life  of  King  Edward  VII. 

By  a  Member  of  the  Royal  Household.     Illustrated.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 
"  While  the  book  gives  a  narrative  that  is  intimate  and  personal  in  character,  it  does 
not  descend  to  vulgar  narrative.     It  is  a  book  which  will  be  found  of  unusual  interest." 
—Brooklyn  Eagle. 

The  Private  Life  of  the  Queen. 

By  a  Member  of  the  Royal  Household.  Illustrated.  J2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 
"  A  singularly  attractive  picture  of  Queen  Victoria.  .  .  .  The  interests  and  occu 
pations  that  make  up  the  Queen's  day,  and  the  functions  of  many  of  the  members  of  her 
household,  are  described  in  a  manner  calculated  to  gratify  the  natural  desire  to  know 
what  goes  on  behind  closed  doors  that  very  few  of  the  world's  dignitaries  are  privi 
leged  to  pass." — Boston  Herald. 

The  Sovereigns  and  Courts  of  Europe. 

The  Home  and  Court  Life  and  Characteristics  of  the  Reigning  Families. 
By  "  POLITIKOS."  With  many  Portraits.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"The  anonymous  author  of  these  sketches  of  the  reigning  sovereigns  of  Europe 
appears  to  have  gathered  a  good  deal  of  curious  information  about  their  private  lives, 
manners,  and  customs,  and  has  certainly  in  several  instances  had  access  to  unusual 
sources.  The  result  is  a  volume  which  furnishes  views  of  the  kings  and  queens  con 
cerned,  far  fuller  and  more  intimate  than  can  be  found  elsewhere."— New  York 
Tribune. 

The  Life  of  his  Royal    Highness   the  Prince 
Consort. 

By  Sir  THEODORE  MARTIN.  In  five  volumes,  each  with  Portrait.  i2mo. 
Cloth,  $10.00. 

"  A  full  and  impartial  biography  of  a  noble  and  enlightened  prince.  .  .  .  Mr.  Mar 
tin's  work  is  not  gossipy,  not  light,  nor  yet  dull,  guarded  in  its  details  of  the  domestic 
lives  of  Albert  and  Victoria,  but  sufficiently  full  and  familiar  to  contribute  much  inter- 
esting  information." — Chicago  Tribune. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


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